Marcus and Didyme
by Merina Thropp
Summary: CURRENTLY BEING DRASTICALLY RE-EDITED. Volterra, 1200 BC; a mess of power, ambition, lies, betrayal, murder…and an unmatched romance, caught up in it all. Marcus's road to debilitation, as told by Stephenie Meyer. Marcus/Didyme, Aro/Didyme platonic.
1. Return: Didyme

*****I HAVE NOT YET READ 'THE TWILIGHT SAGA OFFICIAL GUIDE'*****

**So, here's the deal with this story. I've been dipping in and out of it since June 09 – I needed to place Didyme in my mind, needed to have some solid storyline/history of the Volturi to refer to for my fanfiction writing. I needed to get Marcus's relationship with her 'defined', and his character down. I wanted to have a bash at creating a sort of in-love, female version of Aro for Didyme's character (which didn't quite work out, but hey), and not let her descend in that deep dark hole of Mary-Sue-ness we all loathe.**

**I wrote this story purely for myself. It's cheesy. It has long, languid descriptions. The plot skippity-hops. I have done zilch historical research on the BC era. ****Proceed with caution, folks. You have been warned ;)**

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><p><em>Once upon a time, a fairly young vampire (he had only been a vampire for a decade and a half) named Aro changed his young sister Didyme, who had just reached adulthood, into a vampire in order to add her to his growing coven…<em>

_– Stephenie Meyer_

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><p>I'm by the riverbank when it happens.<p>

I always loved this bank. Carpeted in thick, velvety green grass – wet with dew, at this time in the morning – and sprinkled with flowers, all colours and shapes and sizes, seemingly unchanged by the years that have passed since I last walked here…a happier time, that was. I used to love this spot. For flower picking, for pretty pebbles and strangely shaped rocks and smooth sticks and golden leaves and shiny fallen apples from trees in summer…

As young girl – an innocent five-year-old with no cares in the world except her own fun and games – I would come out to this very same riverbank and pick all the flowers in sight and string them carefully through my hair; my long, stubbornly straight black hair I had to hack short every few months with my father's hunting knife when it got out of hand…which was often. I wasn't careful with it, didn't look after it in the slightest or even once use the hard, ugly bone comb my mother gave me one birthday...but I loved to play with it, to dress the locks up with daisy-chains fashioned by my clumsy little hands into necklaces and bracelets and crowns.

I would put all my finery on, and sit on a pile of golden-brown leaves, rimmed with shiny pebbles and imagine the stones were jewels, and the leaves real gold, and my flowers chains would become a princess's finery, and _me_…the princess.

It was my favourite fantasy. To be loved. Respected. Admired. Held in high regard by all. I _loved _it. Loved to play my dress up games. I suppose I must have loved to play in general, like any girl my age.

Something not every girl my age had, however…and something I did…was an older brother to play with, too.

I heave a deep sigh, and sink to the slightly damp ground, still sprinkled with this morning's rain, facing the river. I let my eyes drift closed, and lean back against the thick trunk of an oak tree. The sun's swiftly setting rays float over my skin, warm and pleasant to feel, for a few short minutes…then disappear.

It's twilight…

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><p><em>Splash.<em>

The quiet, almost stealthy little sound makes me jump. I open my eyes, glancing down the damp bank towards the river. _Our _river. My brother's and mine. What used to be ours, at any rate…

There, down by the water's edge with one foot still placed in the softly rippling water, stands a hooded figure.

I blink.

The figure stands still as a statue, he or she's face framed by the black hood that matches its flowing dark robe. I sit up a little straighter, pushing my back away from the tree and leaning forward to squint – limp, overlong midnight locks drifting forwards over my shoulders; I lost my father's knife many years ago, now.

The figure has a face pale as death underneath the hood – and its hands, hanging out from elegant sleeves, are also white. White as snow.

Hm. Ironic. I heave another deep sigh – because with the tall frame, the posture…an odd stance, graceful even in stillness, very different, almost superior…it reminds of my brother so vividly. Of all our ridiculous old games; we would sometimes dress-up in our father's tattered old clothes, imagine that the cheap cotton was in fact rich fabrics, and that we were _more_ than just two poor farm children playing out of our parents' ways...

Yes, I used to dream, dream of being a beautiful, so much wealthier woman, clothed in riches, respected and admired by all with my brother up by my side…

I know better now.

I'm debating whether to stand and begin the journey home – the sun is low over the hills in front of me, now, almost set, the air cold to breathe as night draws close – when the figure moves for the first time. It smiles – at least, from this far away I assume it's a smile – and begins to drift towards me with shocking, surreal grace I've never seen in my life before.

My heart gives a little thump. I frown. There's something odd…something almost unreal about this person. I shift uncomfortably – the figure picks up speed, and I realise, as it paces closer, that the hood is not a hood at all, but long black hair…

My heart skips a beat.

_So similar_…

The words resound in my head as the figure's smile widens, and I see now it's a man – yes, _so_ very similar to…him_…_

I stand up instinctively – the figure is pacing with faultless speed towards me, and I must be ready to greet him, for that seems to be his intention, to speak with me, and his eyes…his eyes…

I blink very hard. I must be seeing things. His eyes aren't…can't be…

_Deep, glowing red…_

Monster. Demon.

The words hit me hard as falling boulders. A gasp breaks from my lips, a gasp of utter horror; it's a monster, a murderer, the red-eyed murderer that killed _him_, the killer,my brother's _killer_…

I stumble backwards into the forest – but the demon holds up both his hands, breaking into a run with the cloak streaming and undulating in the wind behind him, and so fast, so _fast_…

I turn and run, straight up the bank towards the forest. I'm only few paces away from the edges of the trees when I hear the voice calling from behind me.

"Didyme! Wait, Didyme, wait…!"

_Run_, my sense screamed at me, but I'd never been one for running, my brother was the one who could run, who could run like…run like…

"Didyme, _sister_, wait…!"

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><p>My mind went blank. Only one word had registered from the whole sentence – but before I couldn't even begin to consider it, I ran headlong into a tangled, prickling thorn bush.<p>

_Only you could do it, you little idiot, _I thought bitterly – of all the bushes in the woods, of course _I _would have to run straight into this one. My hair had got caught in the twisting vines, tangles refusing to let me loose, and I stumbled and fell to my knees next to the plant, tearing at the clumps to free them with trembling fingers…

"_Sister…_"

That voice, smooth as water, so close now, the demon, but not the demon, because of what he'd called me, because he'd said _sister_…

It couldn't be. _It wasn't_. I was hallucinating, or having delusions or _something_. Maybe the demon was planting images and sounds in my mind; I had to get away, and that was all that mattered, before it killed me, killed me like it had killed him, killed _Aro_…

I began to claw frantically at my knots of caught hair.

"Didyme, do be careful, you'll hurt yourself…"

I felt a cool hand rest on my shoulder…

"Let go, let _go _-!" I burst out in a panic, ripping chunks of hair out as I tugged, tears springing to my eyes…

"_Didyme_, sister, it's me; you have nothing to fear…"

"_No!_" I shouted, hating the voice, hating the monster, hating the memories flooding into me because the imitation was so perfect, so _beautiful_…

"Didyme…"

The hands reached over my shoulders towards the plant, and with a few quick swipes, tore the hair away from its clutches. I fell backwards, colliding with the demon-thing-with-my-brother's-voice and spinning round to run once again, tears blurring my vision…but cold, marble-hard arms caught me.

"_- _let me go, let me _go -!_"

"_Didyme_, sister, it's me, come now, listen…"

I hardly heard his voice – I pushed and shoved and struggled as hard as I could, but I was weak and helpless as a little girl, and sobbing before I even knew it…

"_Please,_" I sobbed. "_Please,_ stop it, stop talking, you murderer, _murderer_, let me _go …!_"

"Didyme, look at me, please."

The voice was no longer pleading. It was gentle, and loving and so much like my brother from when we were little children and playing by the river that the tears only poured faster. But I couldn't struggle anymore. I was going to die, at the same hand my brother had died at, with the make-believe voice of him in my ears…

"You're _not_," I sobbed, my eyes still resolutely on the forest floor to the side of us, salt water blurring my vision. "You're not there, you're dead, dead, it's all illusion, wrong, a trick, I know it -!"

"Didyme. Please. Look at me."

I shook my head, choking with tears, but the gesture was automatic, useless, because what choice did I have? What did I have to lose? I was going to die, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. My fate was sealed.

Just like my brother's had been the moment this demon had arrived in our village.

Blinking through my waterfall of tears, I turn my face up to gaze at the creature holding me in his icy, immortal arms.

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><p>It can't be.<p>

I stare in blank, unbelieving shock, unable to speak, at the face in front of me.

It's…_him._

My poor, dear brother. My poor, _dead_ brother.

Now I know that I'm dead too.

Oh. _Oh. _

That was quick. And painless, too.

But that means…

I stare in wonder, and faint, probing confusion, at my brother's face. His skin is pale as death, his eyes a deep, gleaming red, his every feature unnaturally perfect – smooth, sleek black hair, and same serene, half-smiling expression – with just a hint of that clever, superior edge I knew so well. That edge that began when everything else had begun…when everything had started to change. When _he_ had started to change.

But it is still, undeniably him.

"…_Aro_…?" I whisper, my tears blurring my vision again. "Brother…that can't be…you…it _can't_…"

"It can," he murmurs softly, and his voice is the same, the same but so different, slick as oil, but quieter; soft sighs…syrupy, almost. But still, his _voice…_

"It can," he repeats, "and it _is, _little sister." And then his hands reach up, cupping my face, his eyes examining every inch of my tear-stained, sweaty features…almost like a scientist surveying a test subject. I'm too stunned to know what to think of it.

"You can't…" My lips move of their own accord…

"Didyme…"

"You _can't _be…"

"Didyme, I _can_. I _am._ And I've missed you so, sister."

I couldn't help myself. I flung myself into his arms, crushing myself against him and burying my face in his shoulder.

"It _is_ you -!"I sobbed, my tears streaming like a waterfall once more. "Oh brother_,_ I'm so happy, so _happy_, I'm dead, I can't believe it, it's sowonderful, I'm _dead_, _dead_, _dead…!_"

My gasping words ended in another little sob, and I tightened my grip around his neck, feeling a little vague burst of surprise at how cold his skin felt through the black robe, saying his name over and over. I heard him give a half-sigh, half-chuckle, and his arms came around me too. I couldn't stop sobbing – though now, it was for sheer joy and relief – and I was smiling wider than I smiled in years.

"I _am_ dead, aren't I?" I choked, after a few minutes. "How very quick…and I didn't feel a thing…oh Aro, I'm so _happy…!_"

My brother smiled slightly and shook his head, pushing me gently back to see my face again. "No, little sister, you are not dead. And neither am I."  
>I frowned in confusion, the expression odd combined with my unstoppable smile. "Brother, you died <em>fifteen years ago<em>. The monster, the demon-thing…"

"The _demon-thing_ is dead now, sister," smiled my beautiful, ghostly brother, and a new expression appeared upon his face…smug, glittering, almost victorious. "I know for a fact – _I_ killed him."

Now I was very confused.

"But when you are already dead…?"

"I am not dead, sister."

I touched his face quickly with one finger, just to make sure. His cheek was freezing, truly like ice under my touch, and marble hard. "But your skin…and your _eyes_…"

He smiled. "I have changed somewhat, I admit, since the last I saw you. And so have you, sister; so much older, and exceptionally more beautiful…"

I sighed deeply, shaking my head. "If only I had died when you did, then at least I would still look as _young _as you do now…"

"Didyme –"

"This can only be heaven, brother," I insisted. "Or…hell I suppose, but some sort of heaven seems the most likely option, as I obviously could not be happier anywhere else. You _died_…and therefore for me to be with you, I died too." I laughed at my own words; it sounded so silly! "Seemingly very quickly, and painlessly…that is rather odd, I must admit. But there is no other explanation."

He sighed, smiling pityingly down at me. "You cannot truly believe that."

"But it's the truth." My smile was so wide it felt like my face was splitting in two. "Don't worry. I don't mind, not the tiniest bit. I'm with _you. _I could want nothing more."

He frowned slightly for a second, and then carefully, almost experimentally, as though testing something he even now wasn't fully sure of yet, moved to twine both freezing hands round one of mine, a little tighter than was necessary against my bare skin. His expression turned to one of concentration.

"Yes…I see…" he said, softly. My smile faltered ever so slightly – what was he doing…?

"See what?"

He released his grip, and smiled at me once more. "Nothing, dearest. You will know soon enough."

I tightened my arms and buried my face in his shoulder again. "I can't believe it," I murmured. "I'm so…_so_ happy!"

And I was. Happier than I'd been in my whole life. I felt like a warm, wonderful burst of joy and love and every other wonderful emotion related to them was welling up inside me, huge and unstoppable. I was so happy. So happy.

Tears welled up again. They poured down my cheeks, tears of delight and joy. My brother held me close.

"Why do you cry so, sister?"

"I'm just…" I choked. "So…so _happy_. It's almost frightening. My life, you don't know what it has been like, brother, these past years without you. Everything…_everything_ gone so wrong,you would not believe it…so many things…pain, death, tears…ugh, I have wasted so many hours, crying my sorrows out..."

My brother paused, almost as though he was thinking, for a second – and then I felt his lips move to kiss my cheek quickly, and then again, lower, lower, then…drift to rest lightly just underneath my jaw line. My heart gave a sudden, odd leap. I frowned in confusion.

"Brother…?"

"Crying, you say?" my brother said quietly, and I nodded, still confused as to why my heartbeat was suddenly faster, speeding to pang so much louder than usual. "Tears?"

"Yes…well, you know what I was always like, ever such a cry baby…"

He chuckled, very softly, and there was an odd, ghostly note to it that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end.

"_Tears_…well…I can promise you this, Didyme," Aro murmured softly, one of his hands sliding up to rest around the back of my neck, securing it in his grip. "After…_this_ is all over, I promise, you shall never cry a single tear again."

I laughed nervously, the happiness still blissfully filling me up, but…but it was fading, now. His lips were still very close, and very cold against my neck, and my heart was thumping against my chest, loud and fast and…_warning_…

His arm around me tightened suddenly, as did the hand against the back of my neck. His lips were like ice against my skin.

"Brother…" I whispered, my voice trembling. "What…what are you…?"

"I would close your eyes, if I were you, sister," Aro breathed, with just a soft trace of a hiss to his quiet voice. "And do try not to scream too loud, won't you?"

I didn't have time to reply. Didn't have time to think.

Just time to feel.

Feel my brother sink freezing, razor-sharp teeth deep into my neck.


	2. Blood: Aro

…_Aro always wanted power, and because he himself had a potent mind-reading gift, he hoped his biological sister would also be gifted in a way that would help him rise in the vampire world…_

_- Stephenie Meyer_

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><p>Blood.<p>

Blood everywhere. Everywhere.

Everywhere.

Staining my cloak in dark, wet patches. Running down my arms in little scarlet rivulets, like someone had taken the blade of a knife and run it across my skin. Swift, sweeping little streams. Dripping from my hands. Matting in my hair where I'd run my bloody fingers through it. Caking between said fingers.

Not at all nasty. Not even particularly unpleasant.

Deliciously sweet-scented, of course.

But oh, so dangerously tempting, also.

Of course, I had no one to blame but myself for the mess I had made. The mess I had made…of her. Of little Didyme. Little sister.

Oh dear.

I entirely underestimated the difficulty of what I set out to do that morning. Utterly disregarded the warnings dear Marcus gave me just yesterday evening, completely ignored Corin's muttered doubts, Chelsea's sceptical words and careful cautions upon my setting off. I had ignored them. Ignored them all.

And now I was in trouble.

The scent of my sister's blood made my mouth water like it never had before. I do suppose that made sense – never before had I had to resist, never before hold back like I was now, never before deny the most intense, the most overpowering, devastating, overwhelming need of my kind. I was not at all thirsty, truly. I had fed only yesterday, and three times over, till it seemed foolish to continue gorging myself for a task that was to be so simple, so easy…or so I had thought.

But that hunt seemed a million miles and millennia ago now, and the thirst was all there was. Burning, searing, scalding, blistering down my throat till I wanted to shriek with the pain of it, the agony of holding back from the feast in front of me, the blood streaming from my sister's ruined throat, her choking mouth, her trembling body…

But I had a job to do. A task to complete. Work before play – and work came first, always must and would come first – and whether my throat felt like an erupting volcano or not was besides the point.

I had a job to do.

"Aro,p-please,_ s-s-stop_…!" my little sister was choking, her warm, feeble human hands scrabbling at my neck and shoulders, fighting to hold me against her – though why, I had no idea, after what I had just done to her. But she need not have worried. I was not about to leave her now, not when I was so close, so near to another prize, another treasure and one just as precious and fantastical as mine…

_More venom, _I could almost hear dear Marcus's voice chanting in my ear. _One bite is enough, if you really want the transformation to take so long, but more will speed the process…_

"Brother_…b-b-brother_…!" Didyme was still choking, spluttering, jerking and twisting in my arms, her face contorted with pain…

_The best spot is the neck, thickest flows are the creases at the elbows, wrists, lower throat, at the ankle veins…_

"…Aro, _p-p-please_, w-what's h-happen…_s-stop, _please,_ make it s-s-stop_…!"

…_though be careful not to get carried away, go overboard, or you'll kill her before the venom has enough time to spread…_

"…_b-brother…_"

"Shh, dearest, please," I murmured, though my voice cracked and strained and panted in a way I had heard very rarely before, and I did not like it – if only she would stop writhing a second, if I could just concentrate. "Quiet, dearest, hold still…just for a moment…"  
>I bent to her elbows, drawing them up so my teeth could catch the veins there. My sister shrieked in my arms as I sliced through the skin, and then again at her wrists, twice on each side for good measure, followed by another against her throat…<p>

She tried to scream something – but the words caught in her throat, and she choked, coughed blood. I drew back from her throat with eyes pressed shut and breath held fast; desperately trying to lessen the fire in my throat, the laver pouring down it, the longing, _longing _to taste the nectar pouring in front of me, warm and fresh and simply begging to be tasted…

But I didn't. I couldn't. I wouldn't.

There was so much to be gained from this, so much – I had to remember to keep reminding myself of that – and I would not mess it up, ruin it so utterly, unless my life depended on it.

Marcus's words were still ringing in my head. I let my eyes drift carefully open again; Didyme was writhing, convulsing in my arms, but her grip on me was weak now – weaker than it had been, human as she was, which was saying something, her fingers slipping on my shoulders, her head falling back…

"…b-brother…_Aro…_"

Blood everywhere, everywhere, everywhere…

I closed my eyes. Braced myself for the onslaught. Took a slow, tentative breath…

_Bring her straight back, won't you? _Marcus had requested. _If Stefan plans to move the coven South before tomorrow, you'll need to act pretty fast, or we shall all be in trouble. Carry her carefully, wrap her wounds in whatever you can find if the blood is too much…_

"…_b-b-brother…_"

It was too much. Far too much. I could not handle it much longer, that much was certain.

My breath held fast, I dropped to my knees and laid my sister's trembling, ruined body upon the forest floor. Careful not to meet her wild-eyed gaze, I ripped a handful of long strips from the material of her patched skirt, tying them swiftly over and around the wounds of her neck and arms. I left her legs to bleed all they wanted – the blood there was cooler, less tempting. I could handle that, most definitely…

When I had finally finished the bandaging of every one of her gaping wounds, I lifted her once again into my arms, cradling her head in the crook of my elbow, raven hair spilling over my arm in an undeniably beautiful – and familiar – midnight waterfall…

…I let myself meet her gaze once, briefly. The terror and agony contorting her features is hideous to watch.

"…_b-brother…_"

Tears stream steadily down her face, little melted pearls against her flushed human skin. I shake my head, unable to do anything to stop them, unable to stop her pain, stop what needs to be done, what is necessary, _necessary…_

I bend and kiss her matted hair, nestling there a moment.

"Don't cry, sister. Don't."

"…_p-please_…" she begs, though for what, I have no idea; her voice a whisper of sound through her choking, bleeding throat. "…p-please…please, _please_, dearest brother…"

"Dearest sister," I murmur against her ear, and the phrase holds nothing but the deepest of affection, nothing but the care I have always harboured for her…

There is nothing more to be done. Nothing more to be said.

I hold her close for a last moment, her broken human body, fixing the sight and feel of her like this in my mind. Only three short days, and this will all be over. She will be forever different, forever changed…an alien creature, as far as it is possible to be from the little girl I once used to pick flowers for and tuck into bed at night in that time oh-so-long-ago, now…

But no matter.

My human sister still writhing with agony in my immortal arms, I turn to the setting sun, the colour of the blood still pouring, dripping, staining everywhere I look…and begin the journey home.


	3. Reminiscences: Didyme

**Yup, it's a flashback chapter. Sorry, folks. **

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><p>Words fail to describe what the next three days were like.<p>

A few come close, perhaps. Agony is a good one. Burning describes well, too. Scorching. Fire.

I was aware of very little, during that time. My brother's pale face above me, murmuring words I never heard through the blazing flames. Other faces, too – all pale, perfect, angels, yet demons, demons like my brother, the cause of this agony, the cause of everything…

He had requested that I not scream. And he continued to request that feat, again and again, almost begging me by the end – it was ever so strange to hear him beg – and despite my fear, no, my full blown _terror _of him, of what he had done to me…I still harboured the most ridiculous, desperate desire to please him, to obey him, to stopper my shrieks if that was what he truly wanted from me.

At first, the thought was beyond impossible. But as the hours passed and my throat began to scald with rawness, and my lungs to ache like nothing on earth…it became a truly possible feat. The best method, after that, was distraction. I closed my eyes and buried myself inside my mind, shut out the voices and pain as best I could, clamped my lips as tight together as I could…

Distraction. Or in my case, reminiscing.

The memories came quickly, easily, drifting unbidden into my thoughts; unwanted memories, some of them, but I let them through.

I recalled, most frequently, most longingly, that time almost fifteen years ago when my brother and I were inseparable. The years of age between us never mattered in the slightest, never…

…well…not at first.

We did just about everything together. Even sharing my old, silly imaginary games, him helping me fashion my daisy-chains and pick my flowers and play my imaginary prince for me; though I complained far too often about how his long black hair did not suit the role in the slightest. My prince, in my mind, was tall and golden-haired and breathtakingly handsome, with eyes as blue as forget-me-knots…yes, I remembered the eyes were always most important to me…

I remembered how reckless I used to be; a silly, handful of a girl who's poor elder brother had his work more than cut out for him keeping me out of trouble. We slept side by side at night, and played side by side by day, telling each other every secret we had – nothing could keep us apart. He treated me like an equal, despite our difference in ages, right from the beginning; I was in awe of him, drinking in his every word, even if I didn't understand half of it. He was so much older and cleverer and confident and…so much more _impressive_, it seemed to me.

Our parents were farmers, I recalled. Always terribly busy whether the season was summer or winter, becoming to both of us, and me especially, rather strange, detached parents. Mealtimes were silent affairs, only ever broken if Mother or Father began to argue amongst themselves over one thing or another…and that was often.

In truth, I suppose that might have been the reason there was such a ridiculously enormous age difference between us both. My parents were never happy together. My arrival was never planned. I was a…mistake. Unplanned. Unneeded.

At times, thoroughly unwanted.

I didn't mind; my brother became the best friend, father, _and_ mother I never had, never properly. He cared for me more than my parents ever did, right from birth. I wasn't good at making friends – for all my beloved imaginary games, I was a very shy, timid girl – or weak, the runt of the litter, as my brother would teasingly comment sometimes – and dreadful at keeping my manners in check or fitting in with customs of the age.

My brother was the opposite. He had the sort of voice that could adept itself to any audience and any situation; smooth as glass, slipping and sliding and melting over each word, always so friendly and polite to everyone. I paled into insignificance next to him, huddling in his shadow. And there were few children my age in our small village…he was the only person in life that I needed. That I truly couldn't bear to ever be without. And I loved him more than I could ever possibly explain.

But then_, _the strange, demon-creature arrived…and everything changed.

What happened with my brother and the creature that came to our village fifteen years ago was more difficult to remember than the other memories. I still hardly knew how to explain it to myself, even as I lay and burned and bit my lip till it bled trying to hold back my screams.

I remembered that the other villagers thought differently from me. Different in many ways. They said the demon was simply that; a demon. Sent from the Gods to punish; and so he did. Death stained my village for many months from the mysterious, pale-skinned, red-eyed demon, punishment of an unknown 'sin' everyone insisted they came to justify.

That's what the villagers thought. That's what they said. But I knew that there was more to it than that.

Back in the beginning, when the first body of a young woman named Nandra was found, drained of blood and pale as the dead – which was exactly what she was – panic spread through the village like wildfire.

People were suddenly terrified. My family was terrified. _I_ was terrified…though not quiet as much as I should have been. The notion of death, of a murderer living amongst us, didn't quite managed to penetrate my childish mind that first time…I had my brother, and my father's sharp hunting knife to protect me, after all.

But then came a second murder; two this time, a mother and her child from a few huts away, found dead in their own beds.

Three deaths in one village was enough to drive any sensible family to leave – and that was what began to happen. Families started to pack up.

I _was_ frightened then. Frightened of what would happen if _we _had to leave too, of leaving the farm, my home, our wonderful little hut by the river – and what would happen if we didn't. My brother hugged me to him as I cried after waking from nightmares during troubled nights, and told me all would be well very soon, and I was not to worry. But then, he _never_ worried.

I should have known, then, that something wasn't right.

I was too young and too selfishly afraid for myself to even notice…how very calm and collected my brother had stayed through all this.

And then there had been that time, of course, as we sat by our river together – one where so many games and sunny afternoons had been spent – and he had murmured to me quietly, that wasn't it incredible how one being, one creature, one demon could spread so much discourse throughout one village? Control, so much control, and it wasn't even like the demon itself had been proved to have a connection with the murders…no, not even because of what the creature had done…but what he _was._ How incredible, he had whispered against my ear as we sat gazing into the water together, that a demon such as that one could make a whole village move, have so much control, so much power, over so many people's lives…

And I'd sniffed and hiccoughed out a yes in reply and he'd hugged me closer and spoke no more of demons and control. I forgot his odd words quickly. He was so much older – practically a man, and much wiser than me. He was brave and strong. I was still just a little girl. I was young – and very, very scared.

The killings went on.

Weeks drifted into months, and more families left…but my family stayed. I stayed. My brother stayed.

And then even I, young and naïve as I was, knew something was wrong. Something very gradual, hardly noticeable, but still very much present…was happening to him. He would comfort me, yes, and talk to me and play with me as he used to, but there was something different about him. The fact that he was out so often now, hours at a time, sometimes.

About the way he reacted with such calm indifference when another disappearance was announced, about the way he talked more and more of this demon, of the control, such a fast, powerful creatureand intelligent too; the resourceful way it scattered its killings out over a period of almost a month, which was clever, he said…and he addressed the demon now not as 'it'…but as 'he'…

My brother began to leave the house and me with it, for whole days at a time. He would return with an unnaturally bright light in his eyes I didn't like, and a glittering smile on his face I never understood – and never plucked up courage to ask about. He was worrying me, unsettling me, sometimes, with the rapt way he talked of the demon-creature.

Our games were none-existent now, with me old enough to be beyond flower chains and princess pretences…but I missed him more than I can say. I hardly saw him anymore. And though he treated me as kindly as always…there was a new, smug air about him that I didn't like. A cold detachment from the beloved older brother I'd always admired so much.

No longer did he treat me as an equal…but like someone who was – or was becoming – or _would _become…far below him.

Then my Mother disappeared one night, and didn't return. Two weeks later, my Father was found dead by one of the few remaining villagers.

My village was abandoned that very night by all of its inhabitants, farmers and families alike – all except two.

I'd never been more frightened in my life. The constant comfort and protection my brother had always provided for me was slipping through my fingers with every passing day, like water, like grains of sand. Slowly but surely slipping…falling…away from me…

Then my brother came to my room one night, just as I was drifting into dreams; kissed my forehead, whispered a goodbye, went out into the dark night, and never came back.

I had known for years that he was dead. In truth, I knew even after twenty-four hours of his being missing, what had happened to him. The demon had taken him for himself – and my poor brother had been slaughtered just like every other one of those poor, helpless villagers. My brother was dead. Dead.

Dead.

Or so I'd thought.


	4. Meeting: Didyme

_…It turned out that Didyme did have a gift; she carried with her an aura of happiness that affected everyone who came near her. Though it wasn't exactly what he had hoped for, Aro pondered the best ways he could use this gift…_

_- Stephenie Meyer_

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><p>I'm sitting with Chelsea and Corin in the tower when I first meet him.<p>

Aro had mentioned to me that Marcus, his most trusted accomplice for the past decade, was returning from a recruitment mission that evening, and that I should be prepared to meet him for the first time. I had spent a large part of the day sitting in the main tower room with Chelsea, whiling away the endless hours playing mancala – a game seemingly very popular with humans at the present moment – that she had 'acquired' from the village that morning whilst out hunting.

We were talking and laughing whilst Corin watched from a corner of the stone room, throwing out the occasional suggestion here and there for each of us. I was winning for the twenty-seventh time – when my brother stepped through the door. All of us rose from our seats automatically, and I saw, as always, a flicker of that smug smile pass across my brother's face at our respect.

"Sister," he greeted me, his kind eyes I loved so much resting on me. I smiled back, peering curiously at the person waiting behind him.

"We were just passing, so we thought we would drop in quickly. Dear Marcus returned just a few hours ago, and I thought the two of you might like to exchange some introductions..."

I'd heard all the silly, formalized words before – they were for Chelsea and Corin's benefit only. Then my brother stepped aside, and let the person behind him enter first so I could see him…

I dropped my handful of mancala pebbles.

"Marcus, this is my dear sister, Didyme. And Didyme…Didyme…meet…"

He trailed off vaguely, his smile sliding off his face like water as he looked from me, back to Marcus.

"…Marcus…?"

"Marcus," I repeated, very softly, half to myself.

"Didyme," the man in front of me, Marcus, murmured in acknowledgement, his voice as quiet as mine, and my unbeating heart gave a leap at the tone. Low, softly musical, like wind-chimes, a melody of its own…

Beautiful. Just like him. Just like his name.

_Marcus_…

He had long, straggly, jet-black hair – but it straggled in a good way. It fell in casual disarray around the faultless features of his smiling face, making him look young and free and daringly handsome, like he had not a care in the world. His eyes were deep red, glinting with curiosity as he raked them over me…

My unbeating heart gave another pang; soft and fluttery this time, like a butterfly's wings. Oh, he was beautiful. Simply beautiful. For lack of a more appropriate term, he took my breath away…not that I needed it anymore.

My brother, still standing a little way off beside the door, cleared his throat.

"Yes…well…yes, it _is_ nice you two get to meet each other eventually, isn't it?"

"Indeed," the beautiful man, Marcus, said softly, his eyes reaching mine again. "Had I only returned sooner…"

My smile spread unstoppably over my face, wider than it had been in weeks, and I felt it…felt it properly, not like the last time, when it had burst out so suddenly it had confused even my brother…the warmth, the sunshine, the pouring, melting light, my wonderful sunny haze of contentment, of happiness; my talent – or power, as Aro called it – spread out inevitably from me, uncontrollable as ever despite my brother's attempts to teach me properly to suppress it and use it effectively, as I rose from my seat and stepped towards the man, towards Marcus…

His eyebrows rose as I approached him, complementing his alluring smile.

"It is true, then," he said, his smile growing as I knew it would, of course…like so many other men's' had. Only his was different – so very different. Warmth spread through my body at the familiar sight – I _wanted _to see him smile. Wanted him to feel it.

"Brother, you never told me…such a wonderful power to posses…"

"Yes," I heard Aro murmur, a slight trace of pride entering his voice. "It is."

Then he muttered words I was certain afterwards he never meant for me to hear. "_If not exactly the one I was hoping for, as you well know, brother…_"

"Marcus," I said, coming to a stop just before him, and ducking my head in as respective gesture as I could. "I'm so pleased to finally make your acquaintance. My brother speaks most highly of you."

"And of you," Marcus replied, and my smile and glowing aura only grew at the ease of our conversation. Like our voices had been made to flow together; a perfectly synchronized harmony, both voices singing the same beautiful song. "Your brother speaks fondly of you, also…"

"- _and_ your fond brother and his accomplice have many important matters to attend to elsewhere," my brother's loud voice interrupted us. "So we must be leaving you now, dear sister. Marcus?"

He looked to Marcus again, and I saw something I had rarely seen in my brother's face before – except…occasionally…when he looked at me. Friendship. Pride. And…a very strong possessiveness. He valued Marcus's companionship…but he was undoubtedly a useful weapon also. A treasure he prized very highly.

And I knew now, of course, how my brother loved his treasures.

Marcus nodded, his eyes still on mine, his smile faltering slightly. "Yes…" he said, slight disappointment entering his voice. "Yes, of course, I suppose we should be moving on."

He stepped closer to me, and I felt a flawlessly smooth hand close around mine. My eyes widened in delight as he very gently drew my hand up to his lips and kissed it softly; respectively.

"I so look forward to getting to know you better in the future, Didyme," he said, that playful smile dancing round his lips again as he gazed down at me. I let the waves of warmth and happiness swell, engulfing both him and I – and bowed my head once again in as polite an acknowledgement as seemed appropriate.

Our secret smile was shared a moment longer – then Marcus dropped my hand, and stepped back to walk before my brother out of the door. Aro smiled mildly at me.

"Sister."

"Brother. Master." I said, stepping back and bowing my head as respectively as I could. He nodded in approval.

"Very good, Didyme. Very good. Enjoy your game."

Then he turned, and drifted from the room.

* * *

><p>"<em>Oh!<em>" Chelsea's irritating, high-pitched reed of a voice sounded from behind me. I rolled my eyes, and turned quickly to take my seat opposite her.

"Chelsea, please, they'll hear you –!"

"That was so _sweet!_" Chelsea cried, hugging her arms round herself with a dreamy expression on her face.

"_Chelsea_ –"

"Did you see Master Aro's _face_ when you two were gazing at each other?" chuckled Corin, sounding very different from her usual quiet, demur self. "He was completely dumbfounded…didn't know where to put himself…!"

"And Master _Marcus's_ gorgeous face," sighed Chelsea, shaking her head up at me with a kind of awed admiration; misty gold curls flowing over her shoulders.

"Both of you, stop it!" I laughed, before I could stop myself – but an odd, unpleasant twist of something had writhed into life inside me at Chelsea's longing tone as she talked of…him. Of course, half the coven knew by now of Chelsea's continued adoration of both the Masters, Marcus in particular. I'd never taken much notice, till now. "Don't be so silly…"

"Didyme,didn't you see the way he was staring? Not that staring eyes at _you_ are something I haven't seen a million times before, of course, but obviously this is different…"

She trailed off, and they both waited expectantly, two sets of rose-red eyes gazing as I fiddled with the edge of the playing board.

"Yes," I concluded, after a few minutes, a little private, satisfied smile of my own creeping onto my face. Well, of course I had seen it, seen how he'd gazed at me. But I was beautiful now, I knew. And desirable, too, so very pleasant to be around, and sitting like a prize just waiting to be won from any of the guard…and so many had tried to win me…I was _Master's _sister. The constantly sought-after, the impossible jewel, with that wonderful power so many men had basked in…

Chelsea sniggered and pointed in half-delight, half-accusation.

"There!" she cried, grinning. "See that, Corin? That smug little smile, now where have I seen _that _before…?"

"Chelsea, be _quiet!_"

"They would make a beautiful couple," mused Corin quietly from behind me. I turned to glare at her, muscles tensing already with those uncontrollable instincts, those _newborn _instincts – but she only smiled kindly back. "It's all right, Didyme. You know Chelsea, she's only teasing. But truly, I think we – and by we I mean both your brother, Chelsea, and myself – would rather it be Marcus than Aelfric."

I cringed in spite of myself, making Chelsea snort with more laughter at the name of my latest, and easily my worst admirer. Not that it wasn't fun to watch him drool, string him along a little, to let him chase me and tease me and draw the most ridiculous bets over me along with all the others…

Corin was still smiling understandingly at me as I awoke from my musings. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

I smiled graciously. "Thank you, Corin."

I heard Chelsea growl from behind me – disgruntled at Corin taking my side. I turned back to her with a fresh grin on my face.

"You ready to be beaten again, Chelsea?"

She smirked and reached for her pebbles. "You wish. We'll see who gets beaten _this_ time…"

Our game continued in the usual playful way, and I tried hard to concentrate on my usual activities, and not think of what had happened earlier that evening…but my subconscious mind had other ideas.

And no matter how hard I tried…that perfect picture of a black-haired, bright eyed vampire with a smile that dazzled with life and play as he gazed at me, kept floating to the front of my eyes…

And there was nothing I could do to stop it.


	5. Kiss: Didyme

**Thank you to Aidoann for your reviews so far! Yes, I was hoping there would be a sort of tragic irony in Marcus's original character before Didyme's death...glad you're enjoying the story, keep me posted with what you think, I appreciate all feedback!**

**Most fanfic Didymes are sexy. Mine isn't. Sorry. Think of it as originality, ok? There we go :)**

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><p><em>…Meanwhile, Aro's most trusted partner, Marcus, fell in love with Didyme. This was not unusual; given the way she made people feel, lots of people fell in love with Didyme. The difference was that this time, Didyme fell in love herself...<em>

_- Stephenie Meyer_

* * *

><p>I entered the large, stone-walled room to find both my brother and Marcus in a heavy discussion over some sorts of notes they were examining on a large, wooden table. It was stacked high with piles of parchment. I thought I knew what; there were two Romanian vampires named Stefan and Vladimir who were rumoured to be causing trouble somewhere in the North. Well…more trouble than the Romanians usually did. At least, that was what brother had told me.<p>

He looked up as I entered.

"Sorry…" I began, stepping back through the covered archway. "I'll…I'll come back later…"

Disappointment must have clearly showed on my face – I'd hoped the two of them would have finished by now, so I could have a few minutes with Marcus…alone. But my brother smiled.

"No, no, sister, we are just finished. Tell me; where is Chelsea?"

Ah, so not over the Romanians. Over the newly found, highly talented vampire Marcus had tried to bring back from his mission two months back; failed, and gone back a mere two days ago to try once more. And according to my brother, he had succeeded this time – though perhaps not quiet as easily as he'd hoped. That was the only explanation for him needing Chelsea.

I pointed behind me.

"The tower."

_Where I had, of course, been spending the best part of a whole day utterly alone and bored out of my mind. Again. _

Sigh.

My brother gave me a brief, fond smile of thanks, folded up a particularly ragged looking scrap of parchment, and turned to Marcus, placing it in his waiting hands.

"I shall see you later, brother."

Marcus nodded vaguely, almost dropping the notes handed to him – his delighted eyes were still on me. Silent, wonderfully secret understanding and anticipation passed between us.

Aro glanced slowly from me to Marcus, his expression unreadable. An awkward silence fell. I had no intention of leaving – but my brother seemed reluctant to leave _us_ alone. Finally, Marcus spoke up, turning to look at him.

"Is something wrong, brother?"

Aro's deep burgundy eyes rested on me a little longer than was necessary. I felt a twinge of discomfort as a little crease appeared between his black eyebrows.

"No," he said, calmly and smiled once again; the expression smooth and carefully constructed as ever. "Nothing, dear ones."

He stepped towards the door, his hand reaching out to brush my briefly as we passed, gave us one last, thoughtful glance, and then left the room.

Marcus's face broke into a glorious smile. Both of us crossed the room in three strides and grasped each other's hands, me laughing quietly as he drew me close and ran his hands through my long, thick, raven-black hair.

"Didyme…"

"Marcus…what's he gone to do, when will he be back…?"

Marcus shook his head, his smile lighting up his whole face as always, drawing me even closer, his hands light and gentle as feathers against my back.

"Not to worry; he'll be gone at least quarter of an hour if he has _any_ intention of getting somewhere with our new recruit."

I laughed quietly again – out of sheer happiness and relief and at how much time we would have alone – without the discomfort of my brother watching us.

It was now common knowledge amongst almost our entire coven that Marcus and I were – much to Chelsea's infuriation – becoming close. Very close. We couldn't hide it; everyone knew, including my brother. But some instinct…some unconscious emotion had seemed to speak to both of us that making our actions too plain in front of my brother too soon was not a good idea. So our more intimate meetings were always stolen whenever he was occupied with other matters – alone.

He had never spoken up about our growing relationship…but we had agreed, wordlessly, that it was good to take things slowly.

Or try too.

The problem was…when I was with Marcus, all thoughts of taking _anything_ slowly flew from my mind. There was nothing, nothingbut him. And both of us had come very close…very close to slipping with the other. Moments where lips had almost touched, exchanges of affections almost said out loud…but the thought of my brother taking anything badly, disapproving of our more…exuberant affections…it always ignited a tiny little flame of worry inside me – and always made me draw back, just a little from the man I'd grown to love so much.

The man I knew, without one single shred of doubt, had fallen just as much…perhaps even more…in love with me.

Well, of _course._

Marcus stroked my hair softly behind on ear. "It's been too long – when was it…last week? Two weeks? Too long, at any rate…"

I reached up to where he was touching my hair and took both his hands in mine, squeezing them tightly; a little burst of my warmth, my sunshine, my aura, breaking free from its restraints.

"Much, much too long," I agreed, and his smile widened impossibly as the haze of contentment billowed from me to coil around him. "What have you two been _doing_ these past days? I hardly saw any of either of you!"

He sighed, the breathtaking smile faltering just a little. "Our new recruit – Renata, highly gifted, very useful – seems to be having…strong second thoughts."

I nodded, trying to look like I understood. "She already had a coven of her own when you found her?"

"Yes." Marcus nodded, looking serious. He gestured to one of the large wooden chairs beside the table – more like thrones than anything else – that he and my brother often sat at. Neither had any set places – they were immortals, after all, and sitting wasn't something they ever needed to do; the chairs were for decoration only. "Come sit with me…"

I hid my rueful smile as we neared the throne-like seats. "I doubt my brother would approve of me taking his seat…"

"Then you'll just have to share _mine_."

Marcus slipped his hands round my waist and pulled me down to where he was now seated before I could protest. The chair was so huge we could almost fit side by side. I laughed and shifted close to him, resting my head against his shoulder.

"We need another chair," I mused quietly.

"Mm, I'm not sure I agree…" He nestled his face against my hair, his hands curling round mine again. I smiled, letting my aura flood both of us, closing my eyes and nuzzling against him. I breathed in his scent; sweet as any blood I'd tasted, but darker, richer somehow, more intense than other vampire's…but marred by my brother's. I frowned.

"This _is _your chair, isn't it?"

Marcus hesitated, looking a little sheepish. "Well…to be honest, Di, we don't keep track of whose seat is whose much."

I nodded slowly…not quite convinced. Aro had always had a possessive streak; whether it was with those talented nomads he loved to seek out so much, or the side of the shelf in my tower room which he'd claimed as his own, for his parchments and notes; 'histories', he called them…

"So…Renata is having second thoughts…?" I questioned, trying to change the subject.

"Yes." Marcus sighed, his fingers absent-mindedly tracing patterns across the skin of my cheek. "I had to do a lot…well, an _excessive_ amount of persuading to make her leave her coven in the first place."

"Was it a mate keeping her?"

"Two males, and one woman. They were all tied unusually close…especially the second male."

"Red…?"

"Not quite, but headed that way. Renata's ribbon was far stronger than his to her."

"Poor thing," I said softly. The fact that the vampire she had loved seemed to not return her affections…I couldn't imagine…

Sadly for her though, her apparent longing to go home…well. She couldn't. Aro needed her. Sadly for her…those wishes mattered far more than just some nomad's. And it was common knowledge just how many immortals had recently joined the fight for freedom from the Romanians…I found it hard to understand her reasoning – who _wouldn't _want to join my brother, with all his praise and charm and admiration for all who possessed talents such as Renata's?

I felt Marcus turn his face subconsciously press his lips to my hair…and realised that actually, perhaps, I knew the answer to that. Knew the answer to why Renata would want to go home. She had someone…her Marcus…waiting for her…

Poor girl. I would ask brother about leaving her be, I decided, letting her have her own way and go home if she wished…

Marcus's lips had travelled in a dangerous direction; driven by my ever increasing aura, spiralling out of my control, as always. His body wouldn't be able to resist it, no matter how hard he tried; I could only imagine how he would be feeling now. The thought made me smile even wider.

But both of us automatically became a little stiller, a little less relaxed as his lips continued in their perilous journey, travelling down over my cheek, my jaw line, my neck, the very slight curve of my upper collarbone…

_Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh…_

_Careful, Didyme_, I could hear my brother warning me, just like he always did, when the newborn instincts I had still not quite mastered began tugging at my self-restraint, _watch yourself, concentrate, rein them in before you lose control of them…_

When Marcus finally did stop, I turned my own face to the side and nestled my lips against his neck in return, nipping playfully at the single, neat scar left over from his transformation. He chuckled; the sound slightly breathless.

"So easy…" he murmured, almost to himself. I leant back to see his face.

"What is?"

He smiled, tightening his grip momentarily round my hands. "This," he said, gently. "All of this. Just to forget that we must respect many others' wishes, that we must be careful, to take things slowly…"

I looked away quickly, down at our entwined fingers; my stubbornly straight hair, so alike to my brother's, falling forward to hide my secretly smiling face. Truly…we both knew, deep down inside, how the other felt. What we both longed so much to share openly, to have together, to _be_ together…

Just a matter of weeks in each other's company, and I had him. Already captivated. Already spellbound. Hanging on my every word, granting my every wish, already…_already…_mine.

Mine. No matter what Chelsea might say.

Marcus drew back, reached up, and brushed curtains of midnight locks aside to cup my face in his hands.

"What are you thinking of, Didyme?"

I peeped up at him through my curtain of pushed away hair. He smiled so tenderly back at me. A little shiver of pleasure rippled down my spine at the sight.

"You," I murmured, ducking my head. Marcus's face broke into that dazzling, playful smile I loved so much.

He leant very close, and his lips were suddenly at my ear.

"Brother told me you'd been doing a lot of that lately."

I gasped in shock and horror alike. "He _what_…?"

Marcus grinned, looking undeniably smug. "He said your thoughts were rather fuller of me than anything else at the present moment…"

I glowered down at our twined hands; glad, for once, that blood could no longer rush to my cheeks and heat them with colour.

"_Hm._"

I mentally slapped myself for not being more careful around Aro. He was very clever at finding excuses to touch your hand or neck or cheek or arm or sometimes even _hair_ – just to see what you happened to be thinking at that moment. I'd seen him do it often with Corin, and other newer recruits – and lately, he'd started doing it with me.

Suffice to say, I didn't like it one bit.

Marcus chuckled at my furious expression, drawing me close to him again.

"Didyme, it was just in passing, do not look so angry…"

"I'm not _angry_…" I growled against the material of his black robe. There was a short pause – and then both of us burst out laughing as we realised the contrast between my words and my tone. I felt Marcus's lips brush gently, lovingly, over my hair again.

"Don't be like this now, Di, please..."

I sighed; just a slight, soft hiss mingling with the sound. "He won't give me any _privacy_. He's always asking me what I'm up to and where I'm going and what I'm thinking – though he usually doesn't even _ask_ about that, just finds some excuse to touch me. I mean, honestly, what does he expectme to say? I never go anywhere or see or doanything except stay shut up in that stupid tower all day…"

He chuckled again at my childish words – and I felt my anger ebbing away into nothing as his soft laughter rang round the room.

Then he also sighed, slightly wistfully.

"I should mention to Aro what a saddening affect mentioning him to you has on your power…"

"Talent," I corrected, before I could stop myself. "Please. You sound so much like him…it does not suite you."

"I _am_ like your brother in many ways, Didyme."

I smiled slightly at the utter absurdity of this pronouncement, and drew back to reach up and stroke his hair away from his perfect face.

"You are _nothing _like Aro," I said, softly, my fingertips lingering recklessly at his cheek. "_Nothing_."

He smiled, closing his eyes and turning his face to the side to lean into my hand. I shivered just a little with pleasure as he reached up to take my hand, turned it over, and brushed it gently with his lips.

"Nor are you, Didyme," he murmured, his eyes on mine again. We shared our smile for a moment longer, my glowing aura enemating through both of us…he was just so beautiful, so strong and carefree, that mop of black hair, those darting, dancing burgundy eyes…

Our glancing smile became a gaze…

…_Marcus, Marcus, Marcus …_

…then a long, yearning look…

…and I was suddenly, terribly aware…of how very close we were…

Marcus reached up to my dark hair, and softly stroked a few stray stands back behind my ear; baring the features of my face. His fingers brushed one by one over my cheekbone, skimming with the lightest of pressure…

…tracing my lips with the tips of his fingers…

_Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh…_

Then he leant forward, and took my face in his hands as gently and carefully as if I was the most delicate and precious being on earth, like the lightest breath or smallest movement would whisk me away in an instant – and looked so tenderly into my face.

"Didyme," he whispered.

I couldn't reply. My gaze was lost in his, in those velvety red eyes. The colour was darker than mine, of course, yet lighter than Aro's…so lovely.

I waited. As Marcus bent towards me, I waited for him to draw back and step away at the last moment, for Chelsea's calling voice to come, for a slamming door to sound loudly in our ears, for my brother to stride innocently into the room…

But the interruption never came.

My eyes went wide as he kissed me, brushing my lips with his for the lightest, sweetest moment; soft as a whisper, gentle as his feather-light touch, and full of so much love and care I wanted to sob for joy.

And my arms took on minds of their own. Desire, hunger, longing, wanting, needing, craving…_raging_ emotions, _newborn_ emotions, welled up inside me before I could stop them. And my arms were gone from my sides; curled round his neck and twisted in his hair, pressing myself flush up against him with all the immortal strength I now possessed, my lips crushing as fiercely, burningly, passionately as I could back against his…

I felt him stiffen – and very gently, but firmly, and oh so horribly…pull back. My searching lips were gone from his – and my struggling hands were suddenly clasped in his. Restrained.

Both of us gazed at each other in awe; me panting, him wide-eyed and wondering.

Marcus whispered quietly, a tiny crease between his eyebrows.

"Slowly, remember, Didyme. For…well…for your uncontrollable newborn instincts' sake."

"I don't _want_ to go slow," I whispered with a frown, trying to free my hands, my thoughts roaming to places I was already dreading my brother hearing later on…but Marcus held my hands tight. I pouted slightly, knowing this would make him smile, and leant towards him again; flaring my still warming aura persuasively. He shook his head in amusement, leaning away – but I could see the longing in his eyes…

_Mine, mine, mine…_

"Didyme -"

"You said so yourself we have time before he returns…"

"But that time is almost used up," he finished, leaning away and clasping my hands ever tighter in his before I could stop him. I pouted again, sighing.

"When will we get another chance like _this_…?"

He bit his lip. "Soon…"

"And how soon is soon?"

I was frowning again, annoyed; my aura vanished, dead. Marcus sighed very deeply, and drew me towards him.

"I'm sorry," he murmured against my hair as I leant against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, truly I am…"

"Marcus, if we go any slower, we'll be going _backwards_…"

He chuckled, his lips still pressed against my hair, and I closed my eyes again at the sound, burying my face against his shoulder to hide my expression. His laughter trembled through his chest, and I felt him bend to rest his lips by my ear as he spoke softly. "I love you."

My eyes snapped open at a speed faster than a human could ever achieve.

"What?"

I knew it…I knew it of course, knew it was true, had known it would go the same way all the others had, that he would _feel _the same way all the others had, but…but this time…

This time…it _mattered…_

He gave a soft half-chuckle, half-sigh at my tone, and his lips moved against my ear again as he spoke.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice trembling a little at the edges…and something incredible seemed to spark to life inside me as he spoke the words. "Surely you know that, after all this time, after all…_this_? I love you. Oh Di, I've loved you for so long now…"

I turned my face ever so slightly to the side to meet his gaze.

"I love you," I murmured, almost in wonder as the words so entirely alien to me, and yet somehow…not. His face burst into a smile like the sun coming out. "I love you…" I experimented again, tasting the words as they fell from my lips; so right, so easy. "I love you," I murmured yet again, "oh, you have no idea how long I've wanted to say that, I love you, I love you, _I love you_ -!"

I didn't get a chance to finish. His lips crushed against mine again; joyful, exuberant, and my warmth, my happiness, swelled to fill the whole room, brighter and more beautiful than it had ever been before, as my lips conquered his again and again in crushing, burningly sweet kisses, and his words resounded through my mind over and over and over…

_I love you, Didyme. I love you._

And I know, now, that nothing, _nothing_ on earth will keep me from Marcus any longer.

* * *

><p><em>...the two of them were tremendously happy.<em>

_- Stephenie Meyer_


	6. Embarrassment: Marcus

**Marcus's point of view. 'Twas fun.**

* * *

><p>"You and my dear sister seem to have grown rather close lately."<p>

I couldn't help it; any thought of Didyme – beautiful, clever, quick, happy, wonderful Didyme caused a huge, goofy smile to slide onto my face before I could stop it. I stared at the stone ground of the chamber as though it was the most fascinating thing since Chelsea, avoiding my brother's gaze and shrugging bashfully.

"She is…a most wonderful immortal to be acquainted with. I enjoy my time with her very much."

"Mm. So I have noticed."

Aro's voice wasn't disapproving – just plain, slightly blunt; a statement of fact. He studied me with a slight frown on his usually smiling face over a pile of parchment papers awaiting sorting, as though lost in thought. I fiddled with the edge of my dark cloak; uncomfortable for once.

"Is something wrong, brother?"

He surveyed me for a moment longer, and then shook his head.

"No, Marcus, no," he said indifferently, smiling rather more tightly than usual – which was saying something, for someone like him, who almost never _stopped _smiling. "Nothing is wrong. I am just…well…of course, you know I want the best for her. And for you, of course."

I smiled. "The best thing you can give me right now, brother, is the company of your beautiful sister."

"Yes," he mused, still frowning slightly. "She does make a rather…attractive immortal, doesn't she?"

My eyes were on the floor again. "The loveliest I have ever met. Second to none."

"Mm."

I glanced up warily at him as he placed a final bunch of notes on the wooden table top. He couldn't be oblivious to his little sister's beauty – she was, after all, exquisite. A work of the gods, an angel from heaven, beauty of such perfection words could not describe her. Silken locks of molten black hair, eyes pure scarlet, creamy snow-white skin…soft, sweeping little curves I was trying so hard not to think about…

I knew if I were still human, my face would be redder than the blood I had consumed just hours ago – made even worse by the fact that the brother of the object of my treacherous fantasies was still standing mere feet in front of me, with such a knowing smile upon his face that I feared for one horrific instant that he somehow heard my thoughts, even from this distance.

To my surprise, his face turned slightly pitying.

"You do look most uncomfortable, dear brother."

"I…I do…?"

"Yes," he said, and now there was a true, almost teasing smile in his tone. "You do indeed."

I waited, biting my lip, whilst he crossed the room to where his own midnight cloak lay draped over his large, wooden chair.

"_How_ well, exactly, do you and my sister get on together, then?" he called casually over his shoulder. Yes, there was a definitely teasing smile, playing at the edges of his voice…

"I…we…_very_ well, brother. You know that. She is wonderful company to have."

"And to talk with?"

I smiled. "Yes."

"And to walk with?"

Happy thoughts of Didyme were filling my mind. "Yes."

"And to sit with?"

My smile was wider by the minute. "Yes."

"And to have snuggled up on what must have been practically on your lap in _my _throne together?"

My mouth dropped. Aro glanced over his shoulder at me, eyebrows raised high.

"I…you…she…_no!_" I fumbled to explain. "No, brother it's not what you think -!"

"Marcus," Aro said, pityingly, and his voice sounded as though he was having trouble holding back a laugh. "You must have known Corin and Aelfric were practicing together next door to this very room, and…ah now, what is this…?"

I bit my lip so hard it almost hurt as he turned round from the two thrones, now wearing his cloak, and held up a long, long black hair he had picked off the edge of the seat.

"Somehow, I don't think this is one of yours. Or mine, for that matter. And that's not to mention the fact that my chair is simply _covered_ in her scent…" He smiled.

I took a slow, deep, calming breath; closing my eyes. Embarrassment I hadn't thought it was possible for a vampire to suffer in such humongous waves was flooding through me. How much had that vile Aelfric heard from next door? I had been an idiot to assume no one would be practising in there…and how much had he or Corin told him?

I thought back to those heavenly moments with Didyme nestled against me on my lap in Aro's throne; the feel of her thin, delicate frame pressed up against me…her long-fingered hands twisted in my hair, pulling me against her, soft lips crushing mine so fearlessly, so sweetly, over and over and over…

…what if Corin had heard all _that_ as well…?

My face must have been a picture of pure horror as I imagined her relating all I'd shared with his little sister to Aro.

To my surprise, even as the thoughts struck me, I heard him start to chuckle.

"Marcus, truly, there is no point in hiding from me any longer. You and Didyme are making your…_affections _for each other about as obvious as our plans to get rid the world of the Romanian scum are. That is – _blatantly_ obvious! The whole guard is talking about it!"

He laughed again and I smiled sheepishly – painfully – as he strode towards me. "You both think of almost nothing these days but the other – _I _know that better than anyone. You're a babbling wreck whenever she is involved in conversation, stammering every other word, eyes wide as saucers, fixed on her like she's more goddess than immortal!"

He shook his head pityingly, as though the thought of anyone being subject to such an overwhelming emotion as the one he so often saw upon my face appalled him. Still chuckling, he stepped closer and clapped a hand over my shoulders.

"Brother. Don't look so ashamed – I shall not tease you any longer. If the both of you are destined to become mates…well, who am I to interfere? It will keep Didyme out of trouble for one thing, and I would rather it be her than some wild nomad from outside our little coven. Or in, for that matter…if we are talking of Aelfric."

I tried to smile at that – but, giddy with relief as I was, I didn't quite succeed. I managed a kind of weak grimace.

Aro chuckled again, walking me over towards the door, his arm still around my shoulders.

"Come, we won't speak of it anymore today. Let's see how Chelsea is doing with dear little Reneta. Oh, and Marcus?"

He stopped and let go of me for a second, turning to face me with a sympathetic smile on his pale face.

"Yes?" I prompted, feeling nervous. He smiled, and held out his hand.

"I'd just like to see what the both of you were _doing_, exactly, curled up on your throne together. From what Aelfric told me, I understand that it's something I simply can't miss. If you don't mind."

Oh _help_…


	7. Wavering: Didyme

…_So happy, in fact that, after a while, they no longer cared that much about Aro's plans for domination…_

_- Stephenie Meyer_

* * *

><p>I love my brother dearly.<p>

Of course I do. Of course. And a few centuries ago, I loved nothing _but _him. He was my only reason for living.

But then I met Marcus.

Hardly a few months had passed before both of us could hold back no longer. There was nothing stopping us – why wait? We let go. We gave in. The coven was made aware of the truth, to the delight of Corin and Chelsea…well, no, not exactly Chelsea, not anymore…my brother included – and my life changed dramatically. Forever – and for so much better.

But now…Aro is _my_ _life_ no longer. I have a new reason for living. An incomparable immortal who means more me than any being on earth. Who understands me better than anyone ever has or ever will. One kiss, one touch, one smile, and neither of us can concentrate on anything else. We cannot concentrate, for instance, on my brother's increasingly…adventurous…plans.

He wants…I suppose the appropriate word would be…power. Power, and much of it. I know that. I have known that for many years now. He always talked of it – always talked of the control, the authority he would love to have over the world when we were young and still innocent humans, playing together by a river on a summer's day. That happy time seems like a million years ago.

But now I see that this is, truly, a possible fate for him. He is so _clever_…so quick and cunning, able to manipulate anything, anyone to suite his own needs, achieve his own ends. Problems we face flip over and advance our own needs within seconds where Aro is concerned. Enemies become his loyal followers instantaneously, if he so chooses…and all thanks to Chelsea.

Together with Marcus, and his new alliance, Caius; a bitter, white-haired vampire he met a century or so back, who I _cannot abide_, Aro has somehow gathered together a coven of over twenty – almost as many as the Romanians. Twenty enormously talented vampires, all who serve him loyally, and all who would die to protect him and his coven, and forward his plans to overthrow the cursed Romanians, free the vampire world of their iron-fisted rein…

I know the truth. I think the guard does too. But no one speaks out, no one _minds, _under the influence of Chelsea. And why should we mind? Safe and respected down in our secret, flawlessly protected underground dwelling we can call home.

And…I don't mind this. No, I don't. Until quite recently, I longed for more of my brother's control and respect and admiration for me as much as the others do. His words of praise were music to my innocent ears – I was loved, accepted, _happy – _living amongst a race I truly felt I belonged with. I was so _proud_ of Aro and of his schemes, all those he endlessly discussed with my mate and I. For once we were married, I was ranked on the same level as my husband – and therefore the same as my brother, also. Not that that changed my constantly being confined the cursed tower and _out of trouble_ for half the day…

But now things have started to change.

Aro's next step of his plan is to overthrow the heart of the Romanian Coven, a base due North, closer than is safe for us as 'rebels'. Aro is determined that for us – him – to make any further progress, that base of those Romanians has to go. Go meaning destroyed. And every immortal along with it, naturally.

Of course, dear old icy-tongued, ruthless Caius supports this plan fervently. I know this step will go ahead just as soon as our numbers can raise to a decent enough amount for attack.

The truth is…my support for all these plans are wavering. Wavering very much. Too much.

Truly, what _is _it exactly that makes this control so desirable to my brother? What exactly _am _I here, shut up in my tower half the time, supporting all that my brother does? I never questioned Aro's actions before, and I haven't, I don't, of course I don't, but…but…

I suppose I am weary of it. All of it. Chelsea's twisting talent, Caius's Romanians rampages, my brother's simpering schemes…all to advance control of the immortal world. This control, this constant manipulation, this…power…

With every passing day, I become more sick of them all.

Truly…is…_is _what my brother doing for the best of the vampire world? Or is it simply for…himself?

Of course, Aro would make a wonderful ruler, I know it. A wonderful protector and carer for all immortals, and with both the intelligence and the charms that cover his less…civilised actions. Yes, compared to the iron-fisted Romanians, my brother would make a truly splendid ruler for the vampire world. In theory.

And after all, does it _really _matter, in the end, if it is for the good of the immortal world, or not? If it's what is _right_…

But the methods Aro is using to achieve that control are not right. Not right at all, and deep down, I know it.

But what can I do?

* * *

><p>I voice my thoughts, very tentatively, to Marcus one night. We lie together, my head against his chest, over his unbeating heart that is all mine, mine, mine and no one else's – not Chelsea's, <em>never<em> Chelsea's – and speak of my doubts and questions and weariness and all else to my husband.

"Your brother is a most accomplished, intelligent, and admirable man, love," he had told me quietly, as we listened to the sounds of Caius training the single members of the guard – ones without mates – in various skills of battle several floors away. For the hundredth time. "But…"

He trailed off. Then he sighed very deeply.

"But?" I had prompted, wary, but still ready for an answer.

"But I fear that his craving for this…his excitement, his enthusiasm, his desire to seize control from the Romanians…is far beyond mine was, is, or ever will be. Don't forget, love, I longed for many of the same things he still does up until I met you."

I smiled. "As did I."

"But then we met…"

Our smiles mirrored each other and our lips moved together quietly for a few happy, blissful moments – and I let the control I'd been holding in, the power I'd been pulling back burst free, warm and lilting, wrapping around us both. It is moments like these I treasure most of all, when we are alone together and there is nothing but the two of us, two immortals so irrepressibly, irrevocably in love…

Marcus's arms tightened with every wave of my talent as it unfolded out from me – but then he pulled back. His face was troubled as he gazed down at me.

"Are you unhappy, Di? You spend so long in the tower these days, and I have tried to talk to him, truly I have, but Aro believes it's for the best. And, love…you know I respect your brother and his ambitions, and always will, but I would never, _never _want you to be unhappy here. Never."

"Yes, I know," I murmured, absent-mindedly gliding my fingers through straggles of his black hair; his eyes drifted closed automatically at my touch. "I know."  
>Silence fell for a moment once again. Then…<p>

"You love him so, still, don't you?"

I didn't have to think twice about my answer to his question.

"Of course I do. Of course, I love him dearly."

"As do I. He has been a wonderful friend, a loyal companion for many years now…as do I, Didyme. As do I…"

* * *

><p>But I could hear the mechanical note in his voice as he spoke of Aro. See the slight glazed film of his eyes as he spoke of my brother's new plans or recent battles or endless meetings he had attended. And both of us knew, without needing words, that no matter what either of us said, the other was beginning to doubt, beginning to tire, beginning to question…<p>

I love him. I truly love my brother more than anyone on earth aside from Marcus.

But I do wish. I do long. I do wonder.

And I do question…

* * *

><p>…<em>After a few centuries, Marcus and Didyme discussed going their own way…<em>

_- Stephenie Meyer_


	8. Tired: Didyme

"_The wives never leave the tower." – Jasper Cullen, Breaking Dawn. _

* * *

><p>Drip.<p>

Drip.

Drip.

Three raindrops leftover from this morning, which must somehow or other have got in through the window. Little pearls. Now splashing onto the sill.

Drip after pointless drip.

Pointless.

Useless.

Never ending.

Never changing.

Like me.

* * *

><p>I'm tired. So very tired.<p>

My physical body, frozen in its perfect vampire state as I sit by the window and watch the raindrops fall from the black stone can not, of course, ever tire. But my mind…my thoughts…my acts…all are so weary with exhaustion these days.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Things are changing, for all of us. I feel it…of course, I am truly the sole course of it…Marcus can feel it…and I think Aro can, too. I think, and I worry, that when he touches me – and he touches me often, these days, so often, no matter how hard I try to dodge – that he may pass over one of Marcus and my 'little discussions' we have when night has fallen and we can spend hours on end wrapped in each others arms, loving. Our doubts…our questions…our musings.

Drip, drip. Drip.

Marcus, for all his lacking enthusiasm, has still stayed unswervingly loyal to my brother. I know my husband well – better than anyone – and I know he enjoys his position of importance, enjoys the control over so much talent, enjoys…the power.

But he is nothing, _nothing_ on my brother.

And I know, now, that _world domination_ is not what he wants. Not that the idea is unpleasant to him, not in the slightest…but he has higher priorities.

Me, for example.

Both of us are wavering. And not just in loyalty – but in our own happiness as a married couple.

I have grown to despise the daytime. During the sunlit hours – not that I see much sunlight shut up in my tower – is when plotting and punishments and training for my brother happen. Despite my supposed ranking on the same level as my husband, I am positive Aro has done his best to find every little way I am left out of everything.

So, I spend my days in the tower, in _this _tower, shut up along with Caius's striking, sharp-tongued mate, Athenodora. She and I don't exactly see eye to eye on that many things. To put it lightly. In truth, we get on little better than I do with her husband. I detest both him and his stupid, snappish, sarcastic wife with such low-opinions of my husband.

Athendora herself seems perfectly content to remain behind doors, enclosed by suffocating stone, and blocked from all sunlight for months – and it truly is months – on end. For reasons I can hardly begin to fathom, she _enjoys _the isolation. The emptiness. The staggering, overwhelming loneliness.

I loathe it. Oh, how I loathe it. With all of my unbeating heart.

* * *

><p>Drip.<p>

Drip.

Drip.

* * *

><p>Now I know what I really need. I know what I really want.<p>

I want _out_.

I want to leave, escape, flee – break away from my brother's games, his plots and plans, leave behind jealous Chelsea and the other cold, indifferent guard, leave the death and battles and constant attacks Caius revels in so happily.

Leave this horrible, dark, claustrophobic prison of a tower.

Simply, _get out._

* * *

><p>The room I sit in is bare. Black-stone walled. Majestic, yet empty. A cell. Two chairs, a chest, a fireplace. Several shelves neatly line one wall – all belong to me, now. No place to sleep; Marcus and I share a smaller, far more pleasant room a few floors down for our nights together.<p>

This tower used to be almost cosy. It used to be _my_ room, my _private_ room; a cool, inviting little place I spent more than half my time in, entertaining myself, staying out of trouble, chatting to the odd guard member who would occasionally drop by to say hello…

But then I started tiring. Wandering. Questioning.

I think Aro knows. I think he knows…and I think he worries…and thus the life I am now living. I believe he very well could be the reason I see and speak with no one during daylight hours anymore, the reason why the door is now pointlessly, yet still meaningfully, _locked_. I suppose I began stepping out a few too many times last year…last decade…last century…next morning, I simply couldn't open the door.

Drip, goes the rain. Drip.

Drip.

* * *

><p>The only time I am truly happy, utterly content…is at night.<p>

_Night_. Wonderful, sweeping dark night time, when all the scheming is over, and my husband is released from the clutches of my brother and comes pounding as fast as his legs will carry him up the stairs of the tower and into my arms. Then he chases me to our own bedroom – and for a heavenly twelve hours, there is nothing between us, nothing stopping us, until morning comes.

Oh, I love him, I love him, I _love _him. So much.

* * *

><p>And now, I've been doing some thinking about…if we…got <em>out<em>...

…if we left Aro's coven…

Then our love would be unlimited. Endless talks, games, discussions, walks, kisses, touches...

Unlimited. Just the two of us, together. Forever.

And I would be free from this prison of a tower.

It would be heaven. Ecstasy. Immortal bliss.

* * *

><p>Drip.<p>

Drip.

Drip.

* * *

><p>I cannot go on much longer. I cannot spend many more days in this vile cell, or watch any more vampires have their loyalties broken and forced by Chelsea, or any more Romanian servers die at my brother's hand. That is my brother's life – his, not mine.<p>

Not mine…nor Marcus's.

I must talk with him. I must somehow try to explain to my husband.

And then…we must speak with Aro.

Who knows how he shall take this news?


	9. Decision: Aro

…_Of course, Aro was well aware of their intentions. He was not happy about it, but he pretended to give his blessing…_

_- Stephenie Meyer_

* * *

><p>"Brother."<p>

I glance up from my desk to the sound of Marcus's voice, an automatic smile finding its way onto my face. Easy, warm, welcoming, but…wary.

For many years now, my smile has not been a true one. Oh, I work to keep it in place, of course, I am accomplished at it, now. Though it may still seem a little too wide every time I hear my dearest accomplice's cautious questions and uncomfortable pleas, all on behalf of his precious wife, of course. _Of course_. I do have theories…theories I have begun lately to dread, dread so much…

But what am I to do? One can only hope.

I'm undeniably surprised though. The sun set less than an hour ago, Marcus long gone to the confines of his and Didyme's bedroom for what I expected to be a very long, busy night, as always, but here they both are, standing before me.

"Marcus, brother…and sister…"

She stands by Marcus's side, tall as he is, thin and demure. Dressed in blue – she detests black, of course, much as I try to insist she wears it – curtains of raven hair plunging straight to her waist, she is as uncannily similar, and yet so different to me as always…and unsmiling. I let my smile falter a little too, black eyes on her cold, red ones – letting her know, carefully, that all is not as it should be between us.

Sigh.

Didyme, dear little sister, has _never_ understood. Never fully understood or appreciated what I can do, what I can achieve. What I _am _achieving.

This thought helps bring my ever-present smile back onto my face as I gaze expectantly at the not-so-happy-couple. Caius and I made progress today, great progress, with the acceptance of a new member into our guard, Santiago by name. A truly lethal fighter, full of potential. A lovelyaddition.

But back to my sister and Marcus …

"Is something wrong, dear ones?" I ask of the couple standing across the desk from me.

"No," Didyme says, plaintively. "Nothing, brother."

I turn to look at her with a now mildly interested gaze – carefully constructed, a perfect charade. "Then…?"

"We have…well, we decided we'd just drop in for a second as…as we have something to tell you…" Marcus says slowly, his eyes flitting to my sister every few syllables as though hoping for direction. _Awaiting orders_.

Apprehension coils into a little knot inside me, and the memory of what my sister has been thinking so much of these past few weeks enters my mind. I frown, but hold out my hands, gesturing for them sit down.

Marcus tries again to speak. "We wish to tell you…brother…Aro…we have…ah…"

Didyme, tucked close by her husband's side, reaches out a slender hand to twine round his. I don't miss the movement – but then, never have I missed a single movement between those two.

Marcus takes a deep breath.

"We would like…brother…Aro…"

I wait, keeping the smile sweetly in place, while he tries to force the words out of his mouth. My sister strokes his hand soothingly, fingers delicate, feminine…still, as long as mine…

"…Didyme and I…my…we…well…"

"Would it perhaps be simpler," I suggest, pleasantly. "If you were to simply _show_ me what you are trying to say, dear brother?"

I hold out a hand.

_It would save you a great deal of pointless stuttering and stammering, I'm sure, _I add to myself, serving to widen my smile as seems appropriate.

But Marcus only laughs, trembling and overloud, shaking his head. His little wife says nothing. She is too busy watching me.

"No, no, brother, I think – well, I think this is something to be said out loud…"

"Then speak. I am listening."

_Too sharp_, I chide myself. _Too abrupt, expectant, and do watch that you keep that smile, do not let her see your unease, your worry, your fear that…that…_

"Dear brother," my sister says with a sigh, when Marcus still doesn't respond, leaning forward to rest her bare, white little elbows on my desk. "We have both thought long and hard these past few weeks – months, to tell the honest truth – over this matter. A single decision we have found _equally _difficult to make. But our decision we have made, and that is what we are here to tell you of. To explain..."

"To explain…?" I prompt, hiding my admiration for her confident words. She speaks well. Convincing. Decisive. Her smile is wide, smooth, natural. Perhaps just a little too sweet. Still, not a trace of discomfort that emanates so visibly from her husband. Yes…she puts on a wonderful show. Another likeness to her older brother.

My smile grows at the thought, and I let it; more cover up for the writhing knot inside me that twists with full, unrestrained dread at what this 'decision' must be.

"We would like…" My sister pauses, meeting Marcus's gaze of such familiar blind adoration I have to work hard to keep my eyes from rolling. "We have decided after much thought…brother, we both feel that…it is time for us to go our own way."

Silence.

"After so many years now, so many centuries together, I feel – _we _feel – it is time for us to part. We wish to leave you, dearest brother, me…and Marcus."

_Me and Marcus, and Marcus, and Marcus…_

Shock, disbelief, horror, utter horror, anger, fear…all emotions hit me full in the face, one after another; hard. Didyme and Marcus's smiles slide off their faces like water as they take in my reaction.

I come to my senses just in time.

With an almost physically painful effort, I somehow drag the sickly smile back onto my face, and lift my hands to clasp them together in as delighted manner as I can stand.

"How simply _wonderful_," I exclaim, forcing the words to come out thrilled, elated, sing-song – instead of a screaming snarl I long for them to be. "How lovely…I had wondered…such a surprise…but such a _lovely_ one…!"

My sentences don't make sense, and the words are terribly forced – but the couple in front of me brighten with relief, so I must be doing a convincing enough job.

"We…thought you might have foreseen, brother, through our minds…" Marcus begins, that beaming, carefree smile I know Didyme loves creeping onto his face.

"Oh, a _little_," I said, wringing my hands together in what I hope fervently appears to be an overjoyed way – when in fact it's the only way I can manage to restrain from clasping them around the stone table and throwing it straight at their faces. "But of course, I wasn't certain_…_that is to say…Didyme, dearest, I am so happy for you…"

"Thank you," Didyme says, pretty face nuzzling her mate's shoulder, her smile full now. Even as things stand, with so much changed for the worse between us, she still appears, at least, to have kept the steadfast affection for her older brother.

Marcus's eyes are glazed once more, _besotted as ever_, as he gazes down at her, his fingers clasping hers in the gentlest of touches.

"Of course…" I pause, wondering how in the world I am possibly going to be able to say this without losing control completely. "Of course…it will be such a _great_ pity…such a _terrible loss_…" – my teeth clamp together on the last two words, strangling them, but somehow I keep the smile in place – "…but the both of you have been here…a long time…yes, such a very…long time…so…ah…"

I'm struggling so hard to get the words out that it's a colossal relief when Marcus comes to my rescue.

"…so our leaving will not affect your plans to fall upon the Northern Romanian base, Aro?"

"No…!" I splutter, reeling from being addressed by my real name, though of course – and I feel a sickening jolt at the thought – no longer are we the 'brothers' we were a handful of minutes ago. "…ah…no…not at all, of course, but…"

_Think, think, think…!_

"…but it would be…so wonderful if you would wait, say, just a few more weeks, so I might have time to – so _we_ might have time to, ah, prepare fully for the Romanian attacks before you leave?"

_Not convincing enough,_ I groan at myself – butMarcus only smiles, taken in as always by my flawless performance. He was never the most perceptive of immortals, regrettably, always so hopelessly cheerful, playing around, chasing after his infatuation…never quite settling down, never able to realise his full potential. Such a pity. Still, I am thankful for his unawareness, now.

My sister's sharp little eyes, however, have a trace of confusion in them as she watches my obvious struggles. I widen the agonizing smile in an attempt to reassure her, jaw aching from the effort, but it works; she smiles back, albeit tentatively. I breathe a silent sigh of relief.

"Won't you stay, dear ones, for just a little more time?"

_How I can even begin to consider overthrowing the Romanians without Marcus's power…_

"Well, I don't know," Marcus shrugs, still grinning giddy with relief at my acceptance. "We weren't planning to leave for another two weeks or so anyway…"

"One week," Didyme interrupts, suddenly sharp. "One week, Marcus."

"Perhaps just a little longer…?" I probe, careful to keep the desperate note out of my tone. I am dangerously close to begging, now.

Marcus and Didyme exchange glances. Anxiety wobbles in Marcus's expression as he meets his wife's insisting gaze. One porcelain-pale hand slips up behind him to stroke his straggled hair where she thinks I will not see it…

"One week," he murmurs, eyes unmoving on my sister, and I have to quickly unclasp my hands before they crush each other to pieces. _Even after all these centuries, _still_, she has him wrapped round her little finger, no mistake… _"One week, then I'm afraid we must leave you, Aro."

My sister's face breaks into a smile, and Marcus's stance relaxes immediately, eyes widening in delight as she leans towards him for a kiss that will add to the alreadyintolerably nauseating amount both have shared today.

I clear my throat loudly before her lips can reward his, fists twisting around the hem of my cloak, shredding the edges. Anything to let go the emotions roaring inside of me.

"I shall miss you both. Terribly."

The words are stiff, icy. Far too sharp to be believable, but I don't really care anymore. I simply must, _must _find a way to end this meeting soon…

"I shall miss you, Aro," Marcus says, but his eyes are still glued to my sister's satisfied face, and the words are mechanical. I realise with yet another jolt of the stomach how far he has drifted from me, from my ambitions…from the Volturi. So much farther than I feared. Chelsea warned me, told me his loyalties were wavering, but not enough, never enough, to actually…_leave…_

It's because of her.

I move my eyes from my closest friend, the glittering jewel of my collection, to the beaming, naïve little handful of a girl I changed so many years ago with hopes so high and anticipation so ready for a talent as wonderful and fascinating as mine. The girl who has drifted further and further ever since she came to stand alongside me. Ever since she began to wonder, began to waver…began to question.

It's because of her. Because of her, and her questions, and her persuasions, her cursed talent and petty desires…her ability to spellbound Marcus utterly, control him so effortlessly, her puppet, her oh-so-obedient husband…I have lost two crowning jewels. Because of her.

"I shall miss you," I murmur, soft as a breath, but neither of them notice, still so intent on the other. "But now…I have other things to attend to. Plans to make."

Didyme nods once, her eyes never leaving Marcus's. He stares back at her, unable to look away. Spellbound. _Mesmerized_.

So ridiculously, dangerously over-in-love it makes me sick.

I shall never understand it. Not if I live to be three thousand years old, and I most certainly intend to…

How bizarre. To think that whilst I built an empire…she snagged a _husband_. Whilst my control stretched to that of so many…hers stayed saved for one. So alike. So different.

So _bizarre…_

"Thank you, brother," my sister was murmuring, again. "Thank you. We will leave you in peace. Goodnight."

The hem of my cloak is shredded to scraps, but I don't care. I never take my eyes from my sister as she and Marcus rise from their seats, and dart from the room without another word. Marcus doesn't even glance at me.

I close my eyes as the door shuts with a snap, counting under my breath, _ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen…_

* * *

><p>My snarl, muffled by the hand I clamped against my mouth to stopper the sound was reckless, stupid, I knew…but I didn't care. And thirteen seconds was enough time for a happy couple to make it to a bedroom to indulge in unthinkable things and be completely distracted enough not to hear me as I kicked back my chair and smashed my fists down against the desk that stood conveniently in front of me. The stone shattered; crumbling, crunching, collapsing. Dust clouded my sight.<p>

I stood, breathing heavily, in front of my ruined desk.

_Think_. Think, Aro, think, what can you do, how can you stop this, how can you stop them, persuade them…

But even as my mind began to piece together half-arguments, I knew it was no use. Love…_love_, marriage, family…I was only just beginning to realise how powerful all could be.

The thought made me hiss. _Another lesson to be learned_, _Aro. _If I was to succeed, my coven would need more than just the companionship armies and fighters shared. Loyalties would need to run higher, devotions stronger…

_Stronger…_

Chelsea. Easily one of my most prized jewels, Chelsea could break and tie the bonds Marcus could point out and see for me, but if I used Chelsea on _himself_…

But I knew, even as the idea came to me, that it wouldn't be enough. The thought made me want to snarl again; that even _Chelsea_ would be unable to break the bond my sister had secured. Delighted as Chelsea would be to comply. Even now, I knew how seethingly jealous she remained of Didyme. And jealousy was almost too easy to manoeuvre, especially in a woman…

But I knew, knew deep down that even I, with all the talent and power in the world…even _all that _could not undo their love. _Love._

If only I had foreseen this. If only I had realised, known what a practically useless talent little sister would have, I would have never gone back for her, and she would have grown old and died a human, and Marcus would never have met her, and both of us would be farther on in my – our – ambitions than ever before.

But in truth…even if I had known of her worthless future talent, I would most likely still have changed her.

I let out my breath in a gush, sinking to the floor. How I had cared for her. How I…oh, all right…how I _still _cared for her. Despite all she had done…parts of me truly still loved her, as I had for so many years. As _every _man had, for so many years. She was little sister, after all. Dear little sister. _My _little sister.

But oh, how she had ruined everything.

Hatred boiled. There was no use dwelling on the past, no use, because it was over and gone, and she and Marcus were bonded closer than Chelsea could ever break, and no words of mine would persuade them otherwise, and all my plans for next week's attack on the Romanians would end in disaster without Marcus's power because _nothing would work_, nothing could _separate_ them, nothing, _nothing_, except…

Except…

…except…

…_except…_

* * *

><p>Very, very slowly, I rose from the floor and stood once more in the centre of the room. One new thought, one little question, one little…wondering…crept into me.<p>

Except _death_.

* * *

><p>Oh, but I couldn't.<p>

No, no, no. Unbreakable love-bond or not, there had to be a less drastic way, a less extreme measure to rid myself of this problem…

Of course there was. Of course.

…but…if there really was no other way…?

Mm.

To get her…out of the way…so very easily…would save such an awful lot of trouble…

Of course, I could still go right away to them tomorrow morning and persuade them otherwise, do everything in my power that I could to make them stay, but…if that all came to nothing…

I _did, _of course, need a…back up plan_. _A nice quick, clean, easy back up plan, cause of no trouble at all, one I could see to completely myself…

…_trouble. _I sighed. 'Trouble' was, in truth, all little sister had caused lately – and not just in matters to do with Marcus. She was stirring up all degrees of restlessness amongst my guard wherever she went – which wasn't many places, as I took a lot of care to make sure she stayed locked up tight and out of the way in the tower at all times. But trouble had still…leaked its way out.

From her.

Didyme had started to question. My guard was beginning to talk amongst themselves. I knew this from Chelsea – _such_ a marvellously loyal subject that girl was – about all they had heard Didyme saying. About certain ways I was known to…persuade occasional nomads to bend to my will. And Corin had begun to question, just like her. Only lightly, only gently; small enquiries I tried to dispel as best – and safely – as I could…but nevertheless…

I would have to find someway of keeping her quiet – utterly silent – before this cursed questioning got too out of hand. Which it very well could, even if I did persuade them both to stay, unless…

Unless, of course…

Well. I _could_ simply order her away. Force only her to leave, I supposed. Banish her from the city, send out the guard to keep her away, mercilessly attack Marcus with Chelsea's power, and hope for the best…

_You fool, Aro. You think that would keep them from each other? You think that would stop them? Stop their _love_? You just went through this; you said so yourself, you _know_ so yourself, nothing will keep them apart…_

Nothing…

…nothing…

…_except_…

If it truly was…the only way…the only, possible, fair way…

No, it wouldn't be _fair_. It _wasn't _fair, or right, or good, or any of those other things that always ended up causing the most bothersome amount of trouble wherever they roamed…

But what did that matter?

With Didyme…truly out of the way…

I was warming. Oh, I was warming, badly, to the idea.

_How much she had ruined. How much she had taken from me. _

But if she was gone…if I had Marcus…

Oh, Didyme. Poor, naïve, silly little sister. Of course, she would suspect nothing. Nothing whatsoever – so good was my pretence, even now. I would have to think carefully, though, plan well how I could do it, disguise her scent as it was sure to rub off on me, use Chelsea at just the right time, before Marcus could do anything…rash...

But that was easily dealt with.

And Chelsea would be easy, _easy _to win over, to swear to secrecy, to bend to my will…they always were…

A tiny part of me hesitated, recoiled as I imagined the actual…_act_. Closing my teeth round her delicate throat not to grant life…but bring death. Ripping her limbs to build into fire, fire that would burn like the venom that had brought her into my world all those years ago, venom of my very own. Only this time, I was not drawing her in, but cancelling her out…

But what else was I to do?

_Necessary. _

Yes, that was a good word. Necessary, it was _necessary_. A necessary loss, to advance so many eagerly waiting ambitions, all those things I needed to do to climb higher, gain more, advance further…

I smiled.

_I was good at smiling. _

Marcus would be mine once more. His talent ready to command. I could overthrow the Romanians. I could gain my control, gain somany more wonderful, beautiful little talents, advance so many more plans and conquer, _gain_ so much…

And nothing my little sister did would ever be in my way ever, ever again.


	10. Necessary: Didyme

**I have to say, Didyme really didn't turn out how I intended her to. Oh well. I've got kinda fond of her whilst editing this fifty-billion times over. I've grown to really love Marcus, too (though if you want him written gorgeously well, check out Kyilliki's stories; she rules). He and Didyme really have a tragic/fascinating relationship/story, I think, and I wish more people would write about them. **

**I ****am**_**, **_**however, pretty satisfied with how parallel Didyme and Aro's paths ended up. See ending dialogue. It also relates back to chap. 2, just in case anyone gets déjà vu. It's intentional. So...yeah. I'm pretty happy :)**

**Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing!**

*****STILL AN EPILOGUE CHAPTER TO GO, AFTER THIS*****

* * *

><p>…<em>Then he waited for an opportunity to act, and when he knew he would never be found out, he murdered his sister…<em>

_- Stephenie Meyer _

* * *

><p>"…Didyme…"<p>

"Mm-hm?"

"Di, I…I really, _really_ shouldn't be here, you know…"

"Mm. You shouldn't."

I smiled against my husband's lips – he had been mumbling the same sentence for the best part of the last hour, and I knew better than to take any notice of it, now.

"Caius is going to _kill _me..." he groaned in a mumble. I laughed quietly against his lips.

"Now, where might I have heard that before?"

"You're right," he mumbled, pressing kisses to my throat. My eyes drifted closed. "He hasn't lost it completely yet, sure I can bag another few mornings…"

"He should be more understanding," I muttered, irritated by the entrance of such an unpleasant subject. Unpleasant being the operative word when it came to _anything _at allvaguely related to Caius.

"What do you mean?"

More kisses, soft against the lines of my collarbone.

"Well, he has Athenodora, doesn't he?" I muttered. "Not that he spends any time with her to speak of, and not that I blame him, having _her _for a wife…"

"Didyme," he mumbled.

"Oh, I know, I know. Mustn't disrespect my elders, must I, now? Please, Marcus, let's not speak of them anymore."

"Whatever you want, love…"

His kisses deepened a subtle touch further; probing. I pushed him away, laughing under my breath.

"If we start again now, you shall _never_ get out of here, and brother will come looking for us…"

"I can take the blame," he mumbled, leaning to press another kiss to my lips, but I dodged, giggling. I was good at this. Good at controlling the situation when things got out of hand, at my resistance of him, of his feeble attempts at persuasion…never could he beat me in _that _department…

But a few more minutes really couldn't hurt, could they?

It was only a quarter of an hour or so later, when I was wrapped around him once more and utterly in control as always, that I heard it.

Someone was shouting. Far away, deep inside our castle home, maybe ten or so chambers away…someone was shouting. Yelling.

Then screaming.

"Didyme…" Marcus's voice whispered my name, breathless as I kissed down his neck, nibbling at the sensitive spots I knew so well. "Didyme…_Didyme…_"

I smiled against his skin, continuing my journey down his neck, throat, bare chest…

He squirmed underneath me.

"Didyme…oh…_oh_…"

And then I heard it again – another yell, louder this time, followed almost instantly by a strangled scream. And I knew I had not imagined it this time.

Both of us froze in unison. I pulled back, peering behind him to the doorway of our bedroom.

"What's that?"

"It sounds like Chelsea…" Marcus was frowning as he too followed my gaze. "I wonder what she…wait…wait a second…"

"_Romanians! The Romanians! Attack, we're under attack, attack -!_"

- Marcus was already scrambling up and away from me, across the room –

"_We're under attack! Attack! The Romanians -!_"

The Romanians…

Oh, not _again…_

"Didyme!"

_Here we go. _Of course, he was panicking, just like always, whipping round from the open door to reach for me. He caught me halfway across the room as I darted into his arms, embracing me hurriedly.

"You know the rules, Di – don't move, don't leave the tower, I'll be back as soon as I can –"

"Marcus, this will be _nothing_," I murmured, stoppering his frantic words with a kiss. "Don't you remember the last time? It barely lasted half an hour!"

He shook his head against my hair, mumbling something I couldn't catch – then drew back to press a last, chaste kiss to my lips, before turning away. I heaved a quiet sigh as he disappeared, biting my lip. _Time to get properly dressed, I suppose. _

Of course, I was never aloud to fight. But it was almost physically painful to watch my husband disappear week after week to fight without me…

"Didyme?"

I glanced up in surprise – he was back, peering round the open door with the oddest expression on his face.

"What is it?" I questioned. "You should get going, it sounds like they're already in the throne room –"

"No." He shook his head, blurring round the door and towards me, his hands catching my face, cupping it so gently, his expression…suddenly so tender…

"Marcus? What is it?"

"Nothing," he murmured, looking half-dazed as he gazed down at me. "Nothing, love, I just…I…I love you."

He kissed me. Longer this time, and more ardently, lips burning over mine, filling my mouth with the taste of him. Like nothing else on earth.

"I love you," he repeated again, and his eyes were glazed with familiar reverence as he gazed down at me. "I love you. So much. You have no idea..."

"I do."

_It was true. I did. _

I smiled. "I love you too."

His eyes stared into mine for one last moment, then his hands were gone from my face, and he out of the room, the door slamming behind him with echoing finality.

Two bolts slid across the door with a clunk, and I sank down on the floor to wait.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean you <em>can't find him?<em>"

"_I'm sorry!_" Chelsea screamed over the deafening metallic screeches, crackling flames, crashing stone. "But Didyme, what are you doing here, why aren't you in the tower, you're supposed to be in the _tower - !_"

Her reply to my question cut off when two Romanians, red cloaks billowing, engulfed her in yet another fight – and she was swept away from me once more.

I didn't think twice.

_Two hours. _It must have been a record. Hopes of being reunited with my husband after an easy, ten minute sling had long since been smashed to smithereens. Two hours since the Romanians had attacked, murdered poor Aelfric – yes, Aelfric, of all people, had finally earned my sympathy – standing watch at the time, and then marched through to launch a deafetable – but nevertheless, threatening – attack.

And it had been over an hour and a half since I had seen my brother.

I knew I was not supposed to be here. I should have been sitting safe and sound up in my tower room, like Marcus always insisted – but I wasn't.

I had intended just to have a quick peek. A very small, reckless, foolish peep out of my room, maybe slip down a few of the flights of stairs, just to see what was happening, why the battle was still raging, _why_ we weren't winning like we should have been…

_Curiosity. _Honestly, I was worse than my brother, sometimes.

At any rate…it hadn't gone quite like that.

One of the Romanians – an ashy blonde with wild, bulging, cherry-red eyes – had caught sight of me, peeping out from behind a pillar at the bottom of my tower stairwell…and given chase.

I had tried to run. Oh, how I had tried. I had made for the main chamber, hoping vaguely that there would be more of our fighters as apposed to Romanians there, what with it being the centre of most of my brother's operations. I was very wrong.

Chelsea had spotted me, cowering in a corner – and, to my surprise, hurried over to my side. I'd worried, for one terrible moment, she might simply leave me to burn in battle. But she didn't seem angry, or even exasperated, that I'd abandoned the safety of my tower.

If anything, she seemed rather panicky.

"You're not _supposed _to be here!" she had half moaned, whilst the ashy-blonde Romanian scurried past behind her, chased by Afton. "This isn't right, isn't – why – _ugh, _you little _idiot_, Didyme! Get backto your tower, go on, get back!"

And I had tried to explain, tried to defend myself, questioned about Marcus, about Aro – and she had told me, said that Marcus was doing fine, but Aro…

"Can't _believe _it!" she groaned in response. "No, I haven't seen him – but the tower, Didyme, maybe he's in the tower, go check, and you'll be s…safe up there anyway…go on, Didyme go, go, _go!_"  
>And I'd gone.<p>

Chelsea's frantic words ringing in my ears, I turned for the door, scrambled past a slab of broken stone fallen from one of the pillars and set off running with all of my strength towards the tower…

_If something had happened to him…_

_No, _my mind screamed as I pounded up the first flight of stairs, weakly batting aside a snarling female Romanian as I did so. Her teeth caught my hand, stinging. _No. _The thought was unbearable. Unthinkable.  
>Whatever had happened…wherever he was…I would find him.<p>

* * *

><p>In truth though, when I finallydid, I had very nearly given up hope.<p>

Not one room of the tower I searched was occupied with the vampire I was searching for. As I leapt and stumbled up flight after flight of stone steps, and peered into room after dark, bare, empty room, the two armies so murderously fighting with the other gradually began to lessen – I passed the last few growling Romanians on the second flight. Soon, the battle became no longer a raging tide of fury and death around me, and simply a background noise. Muffled screams and crashes, shouts and bangs, ash misting the air, burning sickly-sweetness on my tongue; all began to lessen, till I was running alone through room after room, filled with nothing but the echo of my own footsteps echoing, in a futile attempt to find my brother.

I had so very, very nearly given up hope by the time I finally reached the top floor of the tower…that ever-familiar tower…the tower I had grown to loathe so very much.

On the opposite side of my prison for the past few hundred years, facing away from me towards the window, stood a tall, raven-cloaked figure.

A figure I would know anywhere.

"_Brother!_"

I half-ran, half-fell with staggering relief across the empty room towards my brother. "Oh Aro, I was so _worried_…_!_"

I clutched his arm, tugging. "We must go, brother! The Romanians – oh, I simply can't believe it, and Caius trained them all so hard – we must hurry…!"

I struggled to pull him around to face me, eyes darting from door to unresponsive brother with increasing panic.

"Brother, come, let's _go…!_" I cried urgently. "_Aro_…Aro…?"

I stopped my tugging, frowning at his unresponsiveness. I wished he would turn around so I could see his face.

"Brother…are you all right? What is the matter?"

Aro said nothing. Nor did he move a muscle. I shook my head in confusion, taking his arm again and pulling gently.

"Brother, we must hurry, we really must…_brother?_"

I let go; waiting, watching. He stayed motionless, facing the window. But then, finally…slowly…he turned his unreadable eyes up to meet my gaze in the reflection of the glass.

I stared at him. He stared expressionlessly back.

"Aro…is something wrong…?"

"No, Didyme. Nothing is wrong…no…"

He turned, very slowly, to face me. "No. Nothing, dearest."

I blinked uncomprehendingly at his face; at the slick, smoky hair, just the same as always, so similar to mine. The black, thirsty eyes, and the ever-serene expression, just the same as always; mild, half-smiling…

His eyes were…very dark, I noted, with an unpleasant shiver. Too dark. He never liked to go thirsty, not at all patient with his thirst, but now…

Black as pitch. Cold as ice, flat pits. Not a trace – not even a _hint_ of the warmth he usually showed me remained. Like a mask had been branded across his features, concealing the face underneath. His smile was utterly devoid of any natural emotion; it was blank with defiant, unwavering decision and determination.

I mouthed wordlessly, unable to speak for a few seconds. What had _happened? _Had he lost some very valuable talent in the battle? Was someone very badly injured? Perhaps it was Caius...oh, how I hoped so…

"Brother…" I whispered, reaching out towards him without much idea of what I was trying to do. "What _is _it, what happened -?"

"Nothing has happened, Didyme," my brother said quietly – but there an edge to his voice, like the cold blade of a knife, cutting over his every word.

I was truly worried now – maybe Renata was lost, or even Corin? The thought was unbearable.

"No one is hurt, are they? Or…dead…?"

"No, no one is dead." His lips twitched at that. "Not yet."

He smiled.

Far away, downstairs, a high-pitched shriek sounded long and piecing. I knew who it was instantly. Chelsea.

I listened in horror for a second – _what could have happened to make her scream so?_ The sound rose in pitch, a terrible cry of agony…then, abruptly, cut off.

Oh no, no, _no…_

I shuddered so hard the movement shook through my whole body…but Aro seemed hardly have noticed the noise. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes…then began to pace towards me with long, swift strides, eyes on mine.

A little knot of apprehension twisted inside me – was he angry I'd intercepted the battle? – whilst instinct screamed at me to _move_, and move _quickly_ – and I did so, stumbling backwards automatically towards the door I had come through, but he kept coming, much too quickly, his fists clenching into claws…

"Brother, please, what is it, what _is _it -?"

"Where is Marcus, dearest sister?" sang the immortal still pacing towards me, forcing me to retreat faster, _faster._

"He was fight…fighting Stefan of the Romanians last I saw…" I stammered, instinct screaming at me, screaming to run, _run,_ Didyme, _run_…

But it was too late.

I felt cool stone press against me from behind. My feet collided with concrete; I had backed into the wall. But my brother never broke the speed of his walking for a second, and he was much too close…

I was really frightened now.

"Brother, please, tell me, tell me what is wrong…!"

"Shh, dearest," he whispered, so gently, crooning the words – and finally he stopped, inches away, _too close, _and reached up a clawed hand towards my face. "Don't be afraid. It will all be over very soon. I promise you. I shall be very quick…"

"V-very _quick_?" I blurted. "Brother, just tell me what's wrong…!"

He didn't reply. Didn't even seem to hear me – simply reached up bone-thin fingers to clamp around my throat, pinning me to the wall. My breath gasped out before I could stop it – _what on earth was he doing?_

"_Brother…_"

"Don't you know, little sister? Don't you know what I am going to do to you, even _now_?"

He leant close, much too close, fingers constricting. I reached up to scrabble uselessly at his grip.

"Aro, please, _what are you doing_…?"

"You don't know," he hissed softly, leaning close. "You don't know, even now, do you?"

"_Brother_…"

A tiny half-gasp, half-scream escaped me as his fingernails dug vehemently into my neck, sharp enough to break the skin, break my unbreakable, _immortal_ skin – I clutched at his grip, frantic, hands tugging with all my strength, but to no avail.

"Aro, _please, _stop this -!"

"Do you have any idea about the _mess_ you have put me in?" he hissed, his face so close I could see nothing but the fathomless black pitch of his eyes – and it was wrong, all wrong, _he _was all wrong, because my brother was never angry, never, _never_… "You ruined _everything,_ Didyme. You ruined all those brilliant, faultless plans I had – all rendered useless because of the absence of his power! We wereinseparable before _you_! He would bow to my every will, he supported my every act, he questioned nothing, nothing before _you_ came!"

I shook my head desperately –_ what did Marcus have to do with anything? _

"Brother, I never questioned –!"

"_Don't lie to me_!" he snarled, and a strangled cry broke my lips as his other hand twisted to grip in my hair, jerking my face upwards so he could look at me, his eyes a storming black mess. "I know how you question my acts, _little sister_! I know how you disapproved and wined and _moaned_ to him about it all, till he gave in and agreed to _leave -!_"

"We agreed together –!" I choked.

"He would _never _have even thought of leaving if it hadn't been for you! You made him to bow to your wishes, all your pretty charms and smiles, twisted his mind -!"

"_You_ twisted the minds of all those talented nomads -!"

He cut me off, crushing my throat. I could only choke.

_Twisted his mind…_

…_twisted their minds…_

The words echoed, pounded. The truth in them, in his words, in _his _accusation, made me want to scream. _Twisted his mind…_

…was that it, then? Had we both reached the same end, after all, my brother and me? This manipulation, this control, this twisting of minds…our own very specific kinds of power…him for an empire, me for a husband…

Were we really no better than the other_, _after all? Were we really that _different_…?

Now, suddenly, to watch his face was to watch myself. My own reflection – alibi male, and far handsomer than I was beautiful – gazing back at me, the same thoughts scrawled across his features that were scrawled behind mine, twisting my own mind as I fought to comprehend, to understand, to _accept_…oh, how we both _hated _to accept…

I tried to struggle, then. Just once. Picking my moment. To shove as hard as I could against him, push him off me…no use. His grip was iron-chain strong.

I opened my mouth to scream. "_Marcu -!_"

"_Shh_."

My brother's hiss was panicked – in one swift movement, he had unclenched a hand and slammed to my mouth.

I tried to squeal. Tried to moan. Tried to kick him – no use, his legs were flat against mine, pinning me against the stone – tried to scratch at his face, rip at his hair, crash against the wall behind me…

No use. No use whatsoever. I couldn't fight. I couldn't get loose.

I couldn't escape.

And nothing seemed real anymore. This had to be a nightmare, a curse, a hallucination – had to be, _had _to be. Everything was wrong, so _wrong…_

Aro's breathing was slowing, calming, as he gazed at me. I no longer saw myself. Just him. Just the black, the burning black, of his eyes. My brother's eyes. _His _eyes.

I felt sobs catch in my throat.

He took a deep breath; slow, shuddering, closing his eyes. Then he leant, slowly, slowly close to me again…and his lips traced along the very edge of my jaw, underneath, that stretch of skin where my neck began. Finding the perfect spot.

Oh no…oh no, no, _no…_

The place he searched for had already been marked, already had a scar – and deja vu swooped in a rush as I felt his lips settle there – _a dim forest, close to our riverbank, my brother returned from the dead, lips against my throat; the searing pain, the burning fire…_

But this brother was a very different immortal now from the one he had been back all those years ago when he returned to save his sister from her lonely young life.

"I have thought long and hard over what I am about to do, little sister," Aro murmured, lips still at my throat. "Long and very, _very_ hard…" He chuckled; the sound was strained, broken in a way it had never been before. "Even now…after all the things you're _ruined_…"

He sighed, wistful. "I care for you, sister. I care…deeply. Oh yes, impossible as you may find that to believe, and though perhaps not in quite the same way I used to…I care. This has been difficult for me, you know. But I have no choice. This is necessary."

"_Necessary,_" I whispered, all horrified wonder. "This…_this…_is _necessary…_?"

"Necessary," he went on, as if I hadn't spoken. "A necessary loss. I will miss you, sister, mourn for you greatly, but…that is beside the point."

"_Beside the point…?_"

"The point of all of this. For Marcus and I to achieve what I – we – wish to achieve. With his talent, the both of us and Caius can do so many wonderful things." He lips were at my ear now, his words sweet murmurs. "You have _no idea_ what I have planned for our coven, little sister. Our rebellious party of so-called 'Volturi'." He chuckled again. "_Nothing_ can stop us once we are fully reunited, once Marcus's talent is mine to command once more. But for that to happen…"

"…_please_…" I croaked through his spidery grip. "Brother, you cannot be thinking straight, just let us stop a second and _talk_ about this…"

"And then what?" he whispered against my neck. "Then…where? If I let you live, dearest, will you leave Marcus be? Will you let me twist _his_ mind like I twisted Renata's? And Santiago's? And all those poor_, poor _others…?" His tone was mocking now, mocking me, and my words from earlier – but I could hear the tremor in his voice, edging his words. The mockery wasn't real. It was forced, fake, and he was using it to hide the truth…the truth…

Yes…even now, I could believe my brother still cared for me.

"We may be alike, Didyme, but we cannot be…_utterly…_alike. One must come first. One must start before the other, one must _end _before the other. And I ask you, dearest…if I let you live, will you let me make your husband stay steadfast and loyal to me, will _you_ be the one to leave my coven and never return, will you not speak to Marcus, not see him, not touch him, not kiss him, not _love_ him…for one moment after this day?"

I closed my eyes. No. _No. _My insides convulsed at the very idea – that fate was beyond impossible, beyond anything…and my brother knew it…

"He will forget you," Aro sang, lilting, his lips trailing so gently, tenderly down my neck. "Forget you, and forget all that you ever did for him…all that you were…all that you are…all that you never will be…Chelsea will help him with that…"

_Oh no, no, no, no…_

I could hear the smile in his voice. The sound was so soft, so calming – almost a _croon_. Endless sobs were trapped beneath my clenched throat; endless, raging, howling sobs…

"Don't cry, sister. Don't."

"Please," I begged, one last time. "Please…please, _please_, dearest brother…"

"Dearest sister," he breathed, his breath ice against my throat, and my heart jumped in my chest, a flicker of hope, a flame of possibilities, of maybe could-be's, of mercy, mercy, _please God have mercy_…

"…goodbye."

* * *

><p>No time to think. No time to prepare.<p>

Death comes at the most unexpected, most unwanted, most terrible of times…and this is one of them.

My brother's teeth close around my throat.

_I love you, Marcus._


	11. Alone: Marcus

…_After all, Marcus's gift was much more useful to him than hers had been. This is not to say that Aro did not truly love his sister; it's just that a key part of his personality is the ability to destroy even what he loves in order to further his ambitions…_

_- Stephenie Meyer_

* * *

><p>I'm killing Stefan of the Romanians when it happens.<p>

The thick, winding rope of purest, most beautiful scarlet that binds me to my Didyme gives a sudden, painful _jerk_.

I stop dead. Stefan's lifeless head slips from my fingers and bounces to the floor, but I barely notice. I barely notice anything. Anything…except…

_I have felt this before._

The jerk. The wrench. The tearing _rip _as a relationship is dissolved, broken, put to an end. With mates especially, other loyal guard Aro has lost in previous disputes and battles; the act is horrible, tragic, sickening to feel …_when the tie breaks_…

And then the rippling bond of love connecting me to my wife shreds and slashes apart – and the pain both mental and physical of seeing it break is beyond excruciating. I scream.

The ribbon waves, tosses; the colour dulled, lost and broken, frayed, with nothing to hold, nothing to connect to, nothing left to love because the other is gone, gone, _gone…_

Didyme is gone. Didyme is dead.

I can't think. I can't speak. My scream chokes in my throat, sputters into nothing. I'm falling, crumpling, crushed by invisible weights. _Suffocating_. The sounds of the battle echo as if from very, very far away. Futile. Pointless. Muffled by the swell of nothing…_nothing…_the gaping hole where _she _should be. Where she no longer is. Where she will never, never be again.

_Gone. Gone. Gone._

To leave my ribbon floating, softly, alone. Forever.

* * *

><p><em>Aro used Chelsea's gift to keep Marcus loyal to the Volturi, though not even Chelsea's gift could make Marcus show any enthusiasm for it. He became an empty man. <em>

_Marcus never found out that Aro was responsible for Didyme's death._

– _Stephenie Meyer _


End file.
